It's Called Survival
by stupid-nickel
Summary: Set during 5x10. During a hunt, the boys come across a teenage girl. She has The Colt; their key to ganking Lucifer. Can they get it from her? Who exactly is she? And what secrets are she hiding? OC but no SLASH and a tiny bit Mary-Sueish...but I don't think so. Rated T for language. PLEASE READ AUTHORS NOTE IN THE PROLOGUE!  Also, it's totally done now!
1. Prologue Never Trust A Hot Guy

**Hey everyone! So I just finished going through and re-editing everything. The chapters are longer and I think it sounds better now. Since the chapters are longer, there are fewer of them, but everything's still there. Hope everyone likes it! **

**Also, to the people who have been asking me...the answer is YES! I WILL be writing a sequel! I don't know when and I probably won't upload it until it's finished, but I will be writing one. **

**Reviews are love!**

* * *

><p>Prologue – Never Trust A Hot Guy<p>

"AHH!"

I shrieked and jumped up out of my seat as something freezing cold was dumped down my back. I flushed in embarrassment and obeyed when my teacher yelled at me to "sit back down." I could hear Marie, my best friend, cackling from the seat behind me.

"Dammit, Marie!" I growled, spinning around to face her. "What the hell was that for?"

"Oh, come ON! It was funny!" she choked out between laughs. As I shook ice cubes out of my shirt, I muttered obscenities towards her. Don't get me wrong, I loved Marie to death. But sometimes, she could be a real pain in the ass.

"Anyways," she continued, her breathing slowly returning to normal. "We're almost there! Look! There it is; Mount Rushmore!" She pointed out the window and I stifled a gasp. The famous landmark was beautiful! I've traveled around, _believe_ me, have I traveled, and nothing compared to this. That didn't stop me from complaining though.

"Great. Now I'm gonna have to get off the bus with a wet shirt. Thanks a lot," I huffed, crossing my arms.

She smiled sweetly and put on her most innocent expression. "You're welcome!"

"Alright class! Listen up!" Mr. Williams, our 12th grade geography teacher, was standing up at the front of the bus. Marie and I simultaneously rolled our eyes as he droned on and on about "school rules" and "buddy systems." Honestly. How old did he think we were? Ten?

We got off the bus and Marie and I both ran for the monument. Sighing, I turned to her. "Isn't it great?" I asked.

Marie rolled her eyes at me. "I guess. Seriously, you are such a geography geek!" She laughed as I elbowed her playfully. Glancing over my shoulder, she gasped. "Hot guy, 12 o'clock!"

When we turned to face him, my jaw threatened to drop. He couldn't have been much older than us, maybe 20? God, was he ever _gorgeous_! Very dark hair and, Lord, help me, green eyes. He was well built, but didn't look like he did weights. The muscle was all natural. I tried not to swoon at the sight.

"Hello, ladies," he said. Oh God, even his voice was sexy! "I'm Travis, I work here. You're with the high school?"

It took us a minute to recover, but when I finally got my voice back, I managed to squeak a small "yes." I almost killed myself. "Yes"? What was I thinking?

"Well, girls, might I just say that you look divine." Marie and I both flushed in pleasure at the complement. Travis turned and looked at me. "But honestly. Did you think you could hide from us forever?"

Wait. What?

Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, _no_!

No, this could _not_ be happening. Not _now_! I finally had a life! I'd gotten away from it! He couldn't know. He just...he couldn't!

"What's he talking about?" Marie's alarmed whisper reminded me of her presence. Crap. I had to get her out of here.

"Marie, go back to the bus," I ordered.

"But..." she protested, her eyes wild.

"_Go!_" This wasn't safe for her. I couldn't the person I cared most about get hurt…not again.

But Marie didn't move. Why couldn't she have just listened to me?

Travis tipped his head slightly to the left. "She doesn't know?" he asked with a chuckle. "Little Marie doesn't know your secret?"

"What secret?" she cried.

"You keep her out of this!" This was bad. This was very, very bad. _No one_ could find out about me! "I don't know who you think you are, but you don't know anything. If you don't leave us alone, I'll call the cops!"

'_Please work! Please work! Please work!' _I silently begged. I couldn't exactly show Marie who I was. I hoped that a human threat would work, just this once.

'_Shit.'_

Travis called my bluff. He smiled smugly. "You really think some puny _human_ police officers will stop me?"

Marie screamed as Travis' eyes turned black.

'_Double-shit.'_

He beckoned for me to go to him. "Come with me now, sweetheart, and no one will get hurt. Your _daddy_ misses you." I shuddered as the demon started to laugh. Ugh, why did demons always have to be so _creepy_?

"Marie, run!" I begged. "I mean it! I can't explain, but just let me handle this!"

I watched as Marie turned her head towards me, her eyes completely black. "Marie isn't here right now, can I take a message?" she smiled.

Feeling my heart break for the umpteenth time, I whispered, "I am so sorry, Marie."

I didn't need to keep up my charade any longer. Grimacing, I placed my hands on her forehead and concentrated hard, trying to block out the sound of her screams as I used my powers to kill the demon possessing her—unfortunately killing her in the process.

As her lifeless body slumped to the ground, I marched up to Travis and grabbed him roughly by the collar. Now I was pissed. "Listen up and listen well you piece of _shit_!" I spat. "The fact that he's my father does _not_ make _me evil_! Now you go running back to your boss and you give him a message from me." My eyes flashed in fury and Travis flinched back. "Tell him that I'm coming for him. Tell him that I _will_ find him, and I _will_ kill him." I pointed to Marie's body. "Too many people I love have_ died_ now and I will _not_ stand for it. Now go."

He only stood, frozen in fear. I may be little, but piss me off and there's hell to pay, sometimes literally.

"_Go!_"

He disappeared into thin air.

I walked back over to Marie's body and sat down beside it. This had happened too many times now. I always tried to run and people always died. Holding back tears, I spoke to the air. "Daddy, you'd better run. I'm not hiding anymore. One of us is going to die soon, and it _won't_ be me."

Standing, I let my wings—invisible to the human eye—envelop me and my search began.


	2. Chapter 1 Some, Damn Teenager

Chapter 1 – Some, Damn Teenager

It was a quiet night in this part of Auburn Hills, Michigan—a warm breeze filled the May air. Most people were sleeping and no cars drove down the street lined with pristine houses and perfectly manicured lawns; all that was needed to complete the perfect image were some white picket fences. However, there was one house which stood out amongst the rest. The neighborhood tended to ignore it along with the people who lived there. They were just too…different. The small house was in shambles—weeds had taken over the front lawn, the front porch was rotting, the roof was starting to cave in, and most of the windows were broken and covered in cardboard. The occupants—Bill and Joyce Smith—seemed…out of place. The only noise in town came from this house.

"Get down!" Sam roared.

Dean quickly ducked as his brother slit Joyce Smith's throat. Her eyes widened in surprise as she slumped to the floor, dead before hitting it.

"Son of a bitch! Sammy, we can't keep this up!" Dean and Sam both knew they were fighting a losing battle. They had only come for the Smiths but had soon discovered that there were more than just two demons in town. Many more.

"I know, Dean, I know! Dammit!" Sam tossed Ruby's knife to Dean and grabbed his salt gun, trying to buy them some time. They had killed three demons so far, but there were still ten taking turns attacking them, grinning maliciously. The boys had already run out of holy water and were running low on energy.

Dean stabbed the fourth demon through the heart and was approaching a fifth when the knife was knocked out of his hand.

Grinning, the former Bill Smith picked it up. "Come on now, boys," he chuckled, playing with the knife. "Let's make this easy. We'll send Dean back to Hell, beat the angels, and Sam here'll get rewarded for breaking the final seal. Everyone's happy." He seemed to take a moment to think before shrugging. "Well," he added, "not you, Dean, but you get the picture. What do you say?"

The Winchesters both tried to think of ways to make it out of the house alive, but they came up short. All they could do was go down fighting. "I say, stuff it!" growled Dean.

Demon-Bill's grin widened. "I was hoping you would say that".

Dean and Sam opened fire on the demons. However, while some recoiled from the salt, the others continued to take turns advancing on the boys. As their rock-salt shells ran low, Sam and Dean were out of ideas. That was when the demons started dropping to the floor one by one, dead.

As the last demon fell, it shared the same surprised look that was plastered on the boys' faces.

Shooting Dean a confused glance, Sam warily made his way across the room to inspect the bodies.

Dean moved to retrieve the knife from Demon-Bill's motionless hand. "Uh…Sammy? What the _hell_ just happened?"

"Dude, you are _not _gonna believe this!" Sam pointed to a hole in one of the dead demon's forehead. "These are bullet wounds! They…they got…_shot_. But that would mean that—"

Shaking his head furiously, Dean cut his brother off. "No. That's impossible. It's gone, Sam, it's gone."

Sam stood back up and sighed, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Well then, how else do you explain this?"

"I…I don't know. It must have been…some sort of crazy, witchcraft hoodoo…uh—"

Dean's struggle for an explanation was cut short by someone clearing their throat. Both boys pivoted, their guns automatically aiming at the sound. Standing outside the window was a teenage girl; she wore a cocky expression. Her straight, shoulder-length, auburn hair twitched in the slight breeze. The girl was dressed in a sleeveless black shirt, black Capri pants, and black running shoes, making her pale skin stand out in the moonlight.

Winking, the girl held a gun up for the Winchesters to see, turned, and ran, disappearing into the night.

Sam and Dean shared wide-eyed, incredulous looks. Their mouths gaped like fish.

After a moment, Dean was the first to speak. "Was that—"

"Yeah, it was," Sam nodded, completing Dean's thoughts for him.

"But that would mean that—"

"The Colt's back,"

"And it's…"

"In the hands of some, damn teenager? Yep. That pretty much sums it up."

Dean stormed over to the other side of the room and punched hole into the wall's drywall out of frustration.

"_Son of a bitch_!"


	3. Chapter 2 Avoiding A BitchFace

Chapter 2 – Avoiding A Bitch-Face

Growling in frustration, Sam slammed his hands down onto the dashboard of the Impala. "Dammit, Dean, we've been out here for hours. Face it, she's gone!"

After salting and burning the bodies, Sam and Dean had jumped into the car and gone after the mystery girl, but she was nowhere to be found. She, in fact, had disappeared long before they had left the house.

Dean pulled over to the side of the road and shifted the car into "park." He sighed and rubbed his face; he was exhausted but wasn't about to sleep at a time like this. "Yeah, but what I wanna know is, where? And who the hell was she anyways? And how'd she get the Colt? And—"

"Dean!" Sam barked, holding his hand up to stop his brother. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed. "I get it, okay. I've got questions too. Look, let's just go back to the motel." He peered at the clock, groaning when he saw the time. "It's 5:23…_am_. I've gotten, like four hours of sleep in the last five days. And you've had even less!"

"I've ran on less fuel before, Sammy." Dean scoffed.

"Dean…"

'_Great,'_ thought Dean, _'here comes the bitch-face and the rant about how "it's not healthy" and "why can't you take care of yourself once in a while" and "you can't save people if you're dead on your feet, Dean!"'_

Rolling his eyes, Dean decided save fifteen minutes of his time, rather than listen to Sammy whine. "Fine! A couple hours of sleep and we keep looking. Got it?"

A neon "Vacancy" sign blinked as the Winchesters pulled into the parking lot of the Motown Motel. The small building only had seven rooms to rent out; six were empty. Terry, the night manager, was unsurprised by the lack of customers. Special occasions and holidays were normally what brought people in. Most preferred to stay at the nicer, grander hotels, and, in Terry's opinion, the Motown was a dive. The whole place was grungy, sticky, and all around filthy. Not to mention the bug problems—though he would never say any of this out loud.

The Winchesters parked the Impala and walked into room four. Groaning, Dean flopped down onto his bed and immediately fell asleep. Sam, however, chose to stay up for a few minutes; trying to do what little research he could on the girl. He was, of course, unable to find anything so he went to bed too.

When the boys woke up, Dean relayed the information they had to Bobby, hoping that he might know something.

"So let me get this straight. You boys got your asses saved by a teenage girl, who found the Colt, knew about demons, knew that you wanted it, and you have no clue who or where she is?" Bobby was using his "dear-God-I'm-working-with-a-group-of-idjets-who-wouldn't-last-more-than-a-day-without-me" tone of voice; a tone that had been used surprisingly often as of late.

Dean rubbed his forehead in exasperation as he paced the small motel room. "Do you know anything or not, Bobby?" he sighed.

"Well sure I do; two things, actually." Bobby replied smugly.

Dean suddenly felt very attentive, his eyes lighting up. "And?"

"This girl definitely sounds like a hunter, but she's not one I've ever come across."

Dean nodded. They had figured as much. "Alright…what's the second thing?"

"You two chuckleheads got saved by Buffy, ya bunch of idjets!" Somehow, Bobby's chuckles managed to sound even more condescending than they usually did. Scowling, Dean hung up his phone as angrily as he could—he couldn't exactly slam his cell phone down onto the receiver.

Sam looked up from his laptop. "Anything?" he asked.

Dean gave his younger brother a dirty look before answering. "Nothing we didn't already know."

"Great," Sam sighed. "So what now?"

Dean opened his mouth to answer, but the sound of his stomach growling beat him to it. Rolling his eyes, Sam scoffed. "Of course…"

A tinkling bell greeted the boys as they entered the diner—along with neon lights, black and white tile flooring, white tables and red chairs, and a jukebox in the corner. Pictures of Tina Turner and Madonna adorned the walls and Michael Jackson's _Bad_ played softly over the radio. Sam looked around and tried hard not to double over in laughter.

"Dude," he chuckled. "This place looks like the 80's came here, threw up, and died." He fought a wince as Dean smacked the back of his head.

"Shut up, man," he growled. "I'm hungry!" He didn't want to admit it, but Sammy was right about the place. It didn't even show any _good_ bands, like Metallica or Van Halen.

As they sat themselves down at a table, Sam opened back up his laptop. If they couldn't find anything on that girl, he would look for another job. They might as well stay busy. A woman, who looked to be about in her sixties, came up to them. She had the sweet-little-old-lady-"would-you-like-a-cookie-dear" demeanor.

"Welcome to the Dynamic Diner." She smiled. "I'm Linda and I'll be your server this morning. What can I get you boys?" she asked, her pen poised, ready to take their orders.

Dean answered first, not even bothering to look at a menu. "I'll take three eggs over easy, bacon, ham, sausage, home fries, and white toast. Oh! And a coffee. Black."

The woman scribbled frantically on her notepad and turned to Sam.

"And for yourself, honey?"

Looking up from his computer, Sam smiled at the woman. "Just a coffee, thanks." Linda nodded and brought their order back to the kitchen.

Dean turned to his brother and looked at his laptop skeptically. "Dude, you couldn't find anything on her last night, right? Or twenty minutes ago either! What're you hoping happened in that amount of time?"

Sam snorted. "That's not what I'm doing, Jerk. I'm searching for another job. Listen to this: There have been thirteen unsolved murder cases in Akron, Indiana in the past two weeks! It sounds like our kind of—hey!" He cried out as Dean slammed his computer shut, almost catching his fingers. "What the hell, man?"

Dean glared. "Are you nuts?" he asked in an angry, hushed whisper. He wanted to avoid having to deal with the consequences of causing a scene. "Some chick's out there with the Colt, Sammy—_the_ _Colt!_—and you want to just _leave_?"

Sam groaned. "Well what do _you_ suggest we do, Dean?"

Rolling his eyes, Dean scoffed. "We find her, possibly gank the bitch, and get the colt back. Obviously!"

"Really? Wow, man, that's a _genius_ plan," Sam replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "And how exactly are we gonna do that, huh? We have no leads, no ideas, and we don't even know who, or most likely, _what_ she is! How are we supposed to find her?"

Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. The fact that they had no clue what to do had him frustrated to no end! However, as Linda brought their food over, Dean was hit with a plan.

She placed a heaping plate of food in front of Dean and gave them each a coffee. "There you go, boys! Anything else I can do for you?" she asked.

"Actually, yes," Dean replied, ignoring the incredulous look he was receiving from Sam.

'_What the hell is he doing now?'_ Sam wondered, hoping they weren't about to take advantage of the sweet woman.

"I'm Detective Hetfield, this is my partner, Detective Ulrich. F.B.I." Dean produced a badge from his coat pocket and showed it to the waitress, Sam following suit. "We were wondering if you've happened see a girl, looks to be about 17 years old and 5'4"? She's got redish-brown hair, about shoulder length. Probably hasn't been in town for too long."

Sam groaned internally. _'Of course. Not even little, old ladies are safe from questioning anymore.'_

Her eyes flickered from the table nervously. "Has she done anything wrong?"

Dean opened his mouth to reply but Sam jumped in. If they were really going through with this, he wasn't about to let Dean screw it up. "Oh no, of course not," he assured her. "We just need to ask her a few questions, is all."

"Well…" One glance was all it took for Linda to fall victim to Sam's puppy-dog eyes. "There is _one _girl…Susie Allens? She came in not too long before the two of you. She's eating, just right over there." Linda pointed to a girl sitting at the bar. Her dark baseball cap covered her eyes and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She was wearing a pink tee-shirt and white ripped-jeans shorts. The boys hadn't thought to picture her in colorful clothing, causing them to overlook her when they first entered. Susie was sipping on a milkshake with a plate full of pancakes in front of her.

_Yahtzee_,the boys thought, smiles spreading across their faces.

They found her.


	4. Chapter 3 Always 22 Or Something

Chapter 3 – Always 22 Or Something

After Linda left the table, Dean rubbed his hands together. "Alright. Well, that was easy. Let's get us a Colt!" He started to get up, only to be pulled back down by his brother. "What?"

"Look, Dean, we need to be smart about this," Sam cautioned. Receiving a sour look from his brother, he continued. "Think about it. She knows who we are; she'll recognize us and then we'll be screwed. And…we don't even know if she's human." Susie continued to eat, oblivious to their discussion.

'_Damn, he's right.' _Dean nodded. "Good point…New plan." He grinned devilishly, Sam responding with an eye-roll. "We follow her. Hell, she might even make it easy on us and keep the Colt where she's staying!" Okay, that was doubtful, but hey, a guy could hope, right?

They watched as she ate and chatted with Linda the waitress. Or rather, Sam watched as Dean scarfed down his breakfast, acting as though he hadn't eaten in weeks. Susie seemed…normal. After a while, she paid her bill and walked out.

"Finally!" Dean grunted.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's impatience as they followed Susie out of the diner, leaving some money on the table. She jumped into a silver Honda Civic and backed out of the parking lot, heading down the road with the Impala not too far behind.

Susie didn't stop until she pulled into the parking lot of a Comfort Inn. She walked into room 102, leaving her car unlocked.

Sam got out of the Impala. "I'm gonna check the car. Keep a look out," he instructed. The eldest Winchester nodded and watched the hotel room door. A few minutes later Sam sat back down in the passenger seat, shaking his head. "It's clean."

Dean cursed and looked back at room 102, just as Susie walked out wearing a yellow sundress and sunglasses. She got into her car and left. After a quick game of Rock, Paper, Scissors—Dean muttered a string of obscenities when he was beaten by Sam's choice of rock…_again_—Sam headed after Susie in the Impala, leaving Dean behind in the parking lot.

An hour later and he had checked Susie's entire room—twice. There wasn't anything remotely strange, let alone the Colt. Dean called Sam's phone.

"_Yeah?_" Sam answered.

"Son of a bitch, Sammy, I got nothing. She's almost _too _normal!" Dean complained. "You?"

"_Sorry man. Naddah. She's been in some damn store this whole time—Always 22 or something stupid like that! I'm coming to get you. We should just go back to the motel and call Bobby. Maybe he'll have some good news for us._"

"Dammit," Dean muttered as he hung up his phone. Had they lost their touch?

Driving back to the Motown Motel, neither of the boys spoke. Dean was silently fuming and Sam couldn't figure out how a teenager had bested them. Maybe she was a demon? A witch? A shifter? She couldn't be human…so why didn't anything supernatural seem right?

Unlocking the door to their motel room, Sam turned to his older brother. "Look, man, we'll figure this out!"

Dean pushed past him and entered the dark room. He pulled his gun out when he saw Susie Allens, reclining on his bed. She was back in her "Buffy" outfit she'd worn the previous night and had the back of her head resting on her hands.

"Hey boys," she grinned. "What took you so long?"


	5. Chapter 4 Hetfield and Ulrich

Chapter 4 – Hetfield and Ulrich

Standing just inside the doorway, Sam lifted his own gun and pointed it at Susie; she raised an eyebrow up at them.

'_Well, she obviously isn't scared of guns…great,'_ Sam thought. _'That doesn't exactly pinpoint what she is…'_

Susie snickered as she sat up on the bed. She beckoned towards them with her hands, smirking. "Well come on in, guys. No need for you to stand there looking stupid!"

Warily, Sam and Dean completely entered the grungy motel room and shut the door behind them, keeping their guns aimed at her. When they remained silent, Susie tilted her head to the side. "What? No snarky remarks? No witty retorts? No 'Who the hell are you'? …Nothing?"

Sam's eyes and gun trailed her as she got off the bed and started pacing the length of the room. "You're the girl we saw last night…the one who's got the Colt. You're Susie Allens," he growled.

Susie stopped in the middle of the room and grinned at them. Placing a hand over her heart and pretending to swoon she sighed. "He spoke to me!" Switching over to a smug expression, she laughed. "Well, Gargantuan, yes and no."

Dean stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. "What do you mean, 'yes and no'?"

Susie looked at him with mock sympathy. "I guess _you_ got the looks," she retorted, winking. "I mean, yes, you saw me last night and I _do_ have the Colt. But, no. I'm not Susie Allens." Seeing the confusion flash across their faces, she laughed. "_Honestly_, you guys of all people should know a fake name when you hear one! Oh, and by the way, that whole 'F.B.I. agents' thing back at the diner? Cute. I mean really—Sam, Dean that was _adorable_!" She sat back down on the bed as she chuckled. "Hetfield and Ulrich? The singer and drummer from Metallica?"

Dean looked over to his brother. His "what-the-hell-is-going-on-man" look was answered with an "I'm-just-as-lost-as-you-are" expression.

"How do you know who we are?" Dean asked angrily.

The once-again-nameless girl watched the confused Winchesters and struggled not to laugh again. She was far too amused with this.

"I know things…" she shrugged.

That apparently wasn't a good enough answer for Dean. "How?" he growled.

"That's for me to know and for you to…well…" It was clear on the girl's face that she wasn't planning on giving them a straight answer.

Dean was literally shaking with anger. Looking over to his brother, Sam decided to take control of the conversation before the only lead they had on the Colt got shot—several times. "Fine. If you aren't Susie, then who—and what—are you?"

The girl grinned, rolling her eyes. "You hunters, always wanting answers. Okay, I'll humor you," she breathed. She moved to sit up straight on the bed, resting her hands in her lap. Acting like she was about to give a presentation of high importance, she cleared her throat. "My name is Krysta. I'm 19 years old, I'm a sucker for chocolate, I'm a Pisces, and I once managed to elbow myself in the face—still not quite sure how I managed that one. Also, no, I'm not a demon. Or a shifter. Or a skin-walker. Or…whatever else you think I am. If you don't believe me, I'm more than willing to let you do your little tests."

The Winchesters tested Krysta with everything they could think of. Holy water, salt, silver; the works. They even checked her gums for fangs but nothing affected her. Throughout their tests, Krysta stayed still, seeming perfectly fine, if a little bored, with their precaution.

When they were finished, she stood up and flashed them a smile. "Great. Are we done here? Did I pass?"

"Just about." Dean flicked his lighter open. Krysta's brow furrowed in confusion, but by the time she realized what was going on, she was already surrounded by a ring of Holy fire. _'When did they set _that _up?'_ she wondered absentmindedly.

"Seriously?" She glared at the boys and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. "Holy fire? You think I'm what, an angel?"

Sam smiled innocently. "Just walk out of the fire," he shrugged. "Prove us wrong. If you aren't an angel, you don't have anything to worry about, do you?"

Dean chuckled. He liked snarky Sam…as long as said snark wasn't directed at him…

Sam and Krysta stared each other down, their eyes narrowed. A minute later Krysta tore her gaze away and glared at the stained carpeting. "Dammit," she cursed under her breath.

Dean turned to his brother, throwing his arms up. "Great. So we've got _another_ freaking angel stalking us? What's this one want?"

"I don't know, Dean," Sam shrugged. "Probably the usual? Kill me and make you say 'yes' to Michael?" Dean shot a glare towards Krysta. _'Damn,'_ she thought. _'If looks could kill…'_

Turning back to his brother, Dean cracked his knuckles. "Yeah, well I'm not letting a damn angel tell me what to do!" he spat.

"I'm _not_ a_ freaking_ _angel_!" The boys turned to Krysta, surprised by her outburst. They watched as she sucked in a deep breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and stepped through the flames, her face set in determination. She opened one eye and, seeing that she was clear of the Holy fire, she relaxed and sighed in relief. "I can't believe that worked…" she muttered. Overcome by a sudden wave of nausea, she sprinted towards the bathroom, emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

Dean and Sam looked at each other with wide eyes. Then at Krysta. And back to each other. "What the hell was that?" Dean cried.

Krysta wiped her mouth and looked up at him. "Well, lucky for me, Holy fire _doesn't_ seem kill me," she groaned as she stood up. "Note to self: the after-effects suck." She flushed the toilet, rinsed out her mouth, and slowly made her way over to the bed closest to her. Sitting down, she held her head in her hands. "Anyone got an Aspirin? It feels like my head's about to explode."

Ignoring her last statement, Sam finally found himself able to speak. "So then, since the Holy fire didn't kill you, that means—"

Krysta looked up at him and nodded. "Exactly what I said earlier: I'm _not_ an angel."

Something wasn't right, he could feel it. "But, Holy fire wouldn't do that to a human…" Sam protested.

She raised an eyebrow and chuckled half-heartedly. "Imagine that…neither of you got the brains. Thanks, Sherlock." Krysta paused for a moment. Did she really want to tell them? _'They probably won't trust me,' _she thought. _'But, if I don't fill them in now, they won't _ever _trust me…dammit! I hate it when I'm right…'_

She avoided their prying gazes and inspected her hands. "That's because I'm only half human," she sighed.

Dean joined the conversation with an intellectual "Wait, what?"

Krysta rolled her eyes and looked up at the brothers.

"Dean, Sam…my father was an angel."


	6. Chapter 5 Silent Conversations

Chapter 5 – Silent Conversations

Krysta waited for her words to sink in as the Winchester boys stared at her. _'Come on guys,'_ she thought impatiently. _'It's not rocket science…' _Slowly, their confusion melted into shock.

"Your father was an angel?" Dean finally managed to sputter, looking at his equally confused brother.

Figuring the two of them might ramble on for a bit, she reclined on the bed and kneaded her aching head.

Sam looked his brother in amazement. "Can that even happen?" he asked.

'_God, they are unbelievable…Is this really such a difficult concept?'_ Krysta wondered.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Dean shrugged. "I dunno, man. It's the first I've ever heard of it…"

Krysta cleared her throat, bringing the boys back to reality. She raised one of her arms and waved. "Umm…hi. I _am_ right here, ya know. Living proof that angels can have kids." She sat back up, slightly miffed that things weren't going as easily as she hoped.

Dean turned away from his little brother to look at her. Eying her suspiciously, he spoke. "Which one?"

Feigning boredom, Krysta inspected her nails. "Pardon?" she asked.

Sam stared at her with mistrust and elaborated on his brother's question. "If your dad was an angel, which angel was he?" They assumed it was probably Michael or worse—shuddering at the thought—Zachariah. There was another trench coat-wearing angel who came to mind, but that thought was quickly discarded. Castiel was just too…well…he was _Cas_. It couldn't be him.

"Does it matter?" Krysta asked. The Winchester boys didn't notice the fear fill her eyes, as it left almost instantly; Krysta had a good poker face. "Look, do you want the Colt or not?"

Sam and Dean's eyes lit up, silently conveying a message between them. This was it, the one chance they had at killing Lucifer.

Sam held out his hand. "Hand it over," he demanded.

"Tisk, tisk. Now where are your manners, Sammy?" Krysta wagged her finger at him, smirking and placing as much sarcasm into her tone as possible.

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. Fine, he would humor her. "Alright. Krysta, may we _please_ have the Colt?"

She stroked her chin thoughtfully as she walked over to the window. The sun was starting to set. Had she been here that long? "Hmm…let me think ab—no."

Dean huffed. "We had it first!"

Sure, he was being childish, but they needed that damn thing and _where the hell did his gun go_? He started patting himself down frantically. He _never _misplaced his weapons. Son of a bitch! He looked up when he heard a stifled giggle.

"Oh, is _this _what you're looking for?" With an almost too innocent expression on her face, Krysta held up both Dean and Sam's guns.

Sam proceeded to pat _himself _down while Dean glared at her murderously—he was pissed. "How the _hell_ did you get those?"

Krysta winked at him, a smug smile slowly spreading across her face.

Sam tried to keep his anger under control, yelling at her would probably only make the situation worse. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he stepped forward, his voice sounding restrained. "Look, Krysta. We _need _the Colt. If you just give it to us—"

Krysta released a short, humorless laugh. "The answer's _no_. I'm not going to just _give_ you the gun. Besides, it's not like I have it here…"

"_Just who the hell do you think you are anyway?_" Dean exploded.

Krysta's expression immediately darkened. She was so _not _in the mood.

Her eyes were full of fire and her face red with anger. "At least," she shouted, "I'm not one of the two _jackasses_ who started the damn _Apocalypse_! If you would let me get a _single_, freaking word_ into _this conversation, then _maybe_ you could find out _how _you can attain the damn piece of _crap_! Now shut up and _SIT DOWN_!"

Wearing deer-caught-in-headlights expressions, Sam and Dean obeyed; Dean choosing his bed and Sam, the armchair in the corner of the room. Both were thinking the same two words: Holy shit.

Breathing heavily, Krysta took a minute to calm down. _'Whoops. Didn't mean for that to come out…whatever, I feel better now anyways…'_ she thought.

"Thank you," she breathed, smoothing out her shirt. "Now, like I said before, I'm not going to just _give_ you the Colt…" Dean opened his mouth to object, but quickly shut it upon receiving a glare from Krysta. "_But_, I could be _inclined_ to _trade_ it for that fancy knife you got off of Ruby."

Confusion flashed across Sam's face once again. "How did you…"

Krysta held a hand out to stop him. "Like I said, Sasquatch, I have my sources. Well?"

Dean and Sam looked at each other; their eyes sharing a silent conversation along the lines of:

_Well? Should we do it?_

_Are you nuts, Sammy? _

_Dean, I just…I don't see many options here._

_Well, we could always just gank the bitch…_

_She has our guns._

_So we overpower her. She isn't exactly the Hulk!_

_Yeah, but she's half angel! She could have some crazy powers for all we know._

_Douse her with Holy fire…it could slow her down long enough for us to find the Colt and kill her._

_Dude, we don't even know where it is. She could be keeping it _anywhere_! Look, I'm not saying trust her, okay? I just think that this is our best option._

…_Dammit, I don't like this, Sammy._

_Me neither, Dean._

Dean broke his gaze from his brother's and glared at the patterns on the wall, as if they had in some way offended him.

Feeling defeated, Sam turned back to Krysta. "What do we have to do?"


	7. Chapter 6 Kid's Got Some Daddy Issues

Chapter 6 – Kid's Got Some Daddy Issues

Krysta grinned; she was happier than she'd been in a long time and things were _finally_ going her way.

Dean, on the other hand, was still fuming. Why were they even going along with this? They should have ganked the bitch when they first saw her. What the _hell_ was Sammy thinking?

"Let me guess," Dean drawled, his tone filled with a large amount of snark, even for him, "you want us to say 'yes' to Michael and Lucifer? Go along with those dick angels and carry out the Apocalypse; winner gets the Colt? Then you can go prancing back to daddy—whoever the hell _he_ is—so he can tell you what a good job you did and give you a pat on the head? How close am I?"

When Dean mentioned her father, Sam noticed how Krysta's eyes flashed with anger—or was it hatred? Sadness? Fear? Maybe even a combination of all four. It seemed they had struck a nerve.

'_Great,'_ he thought. _'A half-angel with daddy issues. This should be fun…'_

Krysta huffed. "It's gonna take a lot to get you to trust me, isn't it?" Ignoring Dean's smirk, she continued with a sour expression. "Look, saying 'yes' to those dicks is the _last_ thing I want you to do. I don't want to have to watch the two of them use you to destroy half the world. I happen to like it here and would be pretty sad to see it blown to shit!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Well then, _pray tell_. What _can_ we do for you?" he asked sarcastically.

Krysta gave him a dirty look and, if he actually liked or even trusted the girl, he would have laughed.

'_Damn,'_ he thought. _'Chick's got a better "bitch-face" than Sammy!'_

"Believe it or not, I'm on _your_ side. I want _Lucifer_," she spat his name, "dead. All I want is your help in doing it." She looked at them hopefully.

Sam scoffed, crossing his arms across his body. "And why should we believe _you_? That's practically the same thing Ruby said to me, and look how well _that_ turned out!"

Dean nodded in agreement, shuddering internally as he remembered the screams that came from the panic room during Sam's demon blood detox.

"A few reasons." Krysta started counting them off on her fingers. "One, I'm not a _demon_. Two, if you didn't trust me as much as you'd like to think you do, you would have shot me by now—"

A quiet "_maybe if you hadn't taken our freaking guns…_" was heard from Dean's direction, but it was ignored.

"—And three, _I'm_ the one with the leverage here." Krysta looked at the boys smugly. "So? Do we have a deal? You help me gank the Devil and I'll trade you the Colt for Ruby's knife." She stuck her hand out in front of her body, waiting for the deal-sealing handshake.

Sam pursed his lips and tried to counteroffer, his inner pre-law-instincts kicking in. "How 'bout we help you and you _give_ us the Colt. _We_ keep the knife."

She shook her head. "Nope. No deal. I went through a _lot_ of trouble to get the damn gun." Krysta was sure to leave out the part where it would be even harder to get the Colt a _second_ time. Why had she returned it again? "And you want Lucifer dead anyways. I'll _trade_ it for the knife afterwards. That's the deal so either take it or leave it."

Dean looked at his brother. "Son of a bitch," he muttered.

Then he strode across the room and shook Krysta's outstretched hand. "Deal."

Pulling it away from Krysta's, Dean ran his hand through his hair. "So, I'll assume that you're not gonna hand over the Colt and let _us_ kill Lucifer…" Krysta shook her head and he sighed. "That's what I thought."

"Look," said Krysta as she walked towards the bathroom, "I have to go and get the gun. You two stay here and figure out where the devil actually is."

Dean scoffed. "I thought you '_knew things._'"

"I do," she replied smugly. She grinned at her reflection in the mirror as she combed her fingers through her hair. "I never said I knew _everything_."

"We're coming with you." Sam didn't think it was a good idea to let Krysta go on her own; who was to say she wouldn't come back?

The corner of her mouth twitched as she walked back over to the boys; she was obviously trying hard not to laugh. "No offense, but you would only slow me down. No, it'll be faster if I go myself."

"Ha! _Believe_ me, sweetheart, we can keep up!" Dean said, rolling his eyes. "It's not like you have wings or anything." He started laughing at the thought.

Krysta raised an eyebrow at him. Her look screamed '_are you honestly that stupid?_'

Dean's eyes just about popped out of their sockets. "Wait, you have _wings_?" he cried. Sam was just as surprised.

"_Honestly_," Krysta sighed. Humans could be so ignorant sometimes. She tossed each of the Winchester boys their guns. "Just stay here and figure out where Lucifer and his meat-suit are at," she instructed. "Oh, and try not to get killed while I'm gone."

Sam and Dean stared at the spot where she disappeared long after she was gone. They had heard the fluttering of wings just before she vanished, but couldn't see any. The motel room was quiet, minus the ticking of the wall clock.

The silence was finally broken when Sam whispered "Dude…"

Dean turned to his brother wide-eyed. "I know…" Scratching his head, he continued. "Dammit, Sam, I dunno what to do here! I…I'm out of ideas."

"Well…I have _one_." Sam grimaced.

'_Great,'_ thought Dean as he looked at his brother's expression. He wasn't going to like this. "And?"

"Let's call Bobby."


	8. Chapter 7 Crowley

Chapter 7 – Crowley

The room was poorly lit. Sitting with a fireplace roaring behind him, a man watched television, "Everybody Plays the Fool" by The Main Ingredient playing softly in the background. Wearing a black suit, the man looked to be in his late 30's or early 40's, his dark hair starting to recede. As he drank a glass of scotch, the power was cut and he was enveloped in darkness. He smiled.

As he left the room, he stopped short; a girl was standing near the other end of the hallway.

"It's Crowley, isn't it?" she smirked, her hands in her pockets.

Crowley sneered and spoke, his British accent quite noticeable.

"So, the little thief finally returned. Took you long enough." He started towards her when he noticed one of the area rugs was bunched up a bit in the corner. A quick moment of panic filled the girls face as he bent down to flip it over and saw the Devil's trap on the bottom of the rug.

As he straightened back up, the girl resumed her poker face.

"Krysta—" Crowley stopped himself short when she cocked an eyebrow up at him. "Yes, I know who you are. Do you have any idea how much this rug cost?" he calmly asked.

Krysta let loose a small shriek as she was grabbed from behind by one of Crowley's guards; a demon of course.

"Dammit," she growled as she struggled to escape her captor's grip. Having no luck, she grimaced. How could she have let her guard down like that?

"This is it, isn't it?" Crowley asked, holding the Colt up. "This is what it's all about." He aimed the barrel at Krysta's head. She steeled herself, waiting for the bullet. However, Crowley shifted his aim at the last second, shooting, and killing, his guard instead.

Krysta stared at him, wide-eyed and confused.

"We need to talk," he said cryptically, "privately."

Krysta nodded and followed him into an ornately decorated study. "What?" she asked.

"Do you know how deep I could have buried this thing?" Crowley moved to stand behind his desk and, with a sweeping gesture of his hand, the door closed behind them, untouched. "You know, after the first time you _stole_ it from me?

"Hey, I brought it back," she replied, crossing her arms and smiling superiorly.

Crowley nodded, considering this. "Why was that, anyways?"

Krysta rolled her eyes. "I guess I'm just a regular humanitarian," she stated with a shrug.

"Cute," Crowley said dryly. "Fine, I won't question your motives—I know how touchy little half-angels like yourself can be." Seeing her surprise, he chuckled. "Yes, I know about _that_ too. But, you still stole this gun in the first place and there's no reason you, or _anyone_, should know this even exists at all," he indicated towards the gun and grinned. "Except that _I_ told you."

"You_ told_ me?" Krysta snorted. She was completely skeptical. There was no way she was planning on trusting the damn King of the Crossroad demons.

"Rumors, innuendo, sent out on the grapevine," he listed methods nonchalantly.

Krysta's expression hardened. "Why? Why would _you _tell _me_ anything?"

Crowley examined the Colt and pointed it at the wall. "I want you, and your little human friends, to take this thing to Lucifer and empty it into his face," he growled.

Krysta held back a grim laugh. "Riiiiight. And _why_ exactly would _you_ want the Devil dead?"

Crowley put the Colt down on the desk. "It's called 'survival'. Lucifer isn't a demon; he's an angel, an angel famous for his hatred of humankind. To him, they're just…filthy bags of pus." He reached down and poured himself another glass of scotch. "And if that's the way he feels about _them_, what can he think about _us_?"

"But…he created you!" Krysta sputtered.

Crowley's expression turned into a sort of sarcastic pout. "To him, we're just…servants. If Lucifer manages to exterminate mankind, _we're _next. So…help me?"

Krysta opened her mouth to object—there was no way in _hell_ she was going to help a _demon_! She was about to tell him this, but Crowley cut her off.

"Let's go back to simpler, better times! Back to when we could all follow our natures! I'm in _sales_, dammit! So what do you say? What if, I give you this," he moved towards Krysta and offered her the Colt, "and you go kill the Devil?"

Krysta thought over her options quickly. She was going to take the gun either way, why not make it a bit less messy? Besides, he _could_ be useful in the future. She decided not to kill him…at least, not yet.

She took the Colt from Crowley's outstretched hand. "You wouldn't happen to know where he _is_ by any chance, would you?" She knew she was probably pushing her luck, but hell, it was worth a try.

"Birdies tell me he has an appointment in Carthage, Missouri."

"Great…uh, thanks." She didn't need to check the gun's authenticity; she could feel its power just by holding it. There _was_ one thing missing though. "I'm going to need some more ammunition, Crowley."

"Right, of course." He walked back around behind his desk and reached into a drawer, searching for the bullets.

"Aren't you, oh I dunno, kind of signing your own death warrant here? I mean, what happens to _you_ if we go up against the Devil and _lose_?" Krysta honestly didn't care what happened to him, even if he _was_ helping her, but she was curious.

Crowley couldn't help but look at her like she had just asked the stupidest question on earth. "Number one, he's gonna wipe us all out anyways. Two, after _you_ leave here, _I_ leave to go on an extended vacation to all-points-nowhere. And three, _how about you don't miss, okay? Moron!_" Krysta jumped slightly in response to his sudden outburst. He tossed her the ammunition and disappeared.

She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. She stuffed the case of bullets inside one of her pockets and tucked the Colt into her waistband. Then she headed back to Sam and Dean at the motel, scowling.

'_Damn demons with anger issues.' _


	9. Chapter 8 Actually A Superhero

Chapter 8 – Actually A Superhero

Dean and Sam hung up their phones and sat down on the beds in unison. Dean looked at his brother and sighed. "Well?" he asked. "Are they in?"

Sam nodded and gave his brother a thumbs-up. "We're good. What did Bobby say?"

Dean groaned. Calling Bobby again hadn't helped at all. "He's got nothing on her. Looks like we're gonna have to go with the little half-breed on this. He's all ready for us though."

Running his hands through his hair, Sam fell back onto the mattress. "Jo said she and Ellen are gonna meet us there."

Dean smiled. He had missed the both of them. Especially after Ash…

It would be good to see them. "Great. How long do you think Krysta's gonna take?"

"Not long," Krysta responded; her sudden appearance caused Dean to yelp in surprise. Sam laughed at his brother's flabbergasted expression, not even flinching when Dean glared at him.

"Carthage, Missouri," she continued.

"What?" Dean growled, his surprise turning to irritation.

Krysta covered her mouth with a hand, stifling a chuckle at the look she was receiving. "Carthage, Missouri," she repeated. "It's where Lucifer is."

Sam looked at her in wonder. "How do you know?"

Krysta smirked, her eyes twinkling. She wiggled her fingers at the boys playfully. "A little birdie told me."

The Winchesters shared an "it's-probably-best-we-don't-ask" look before responding.

"We're going to a friend's first," said Sam. He rummaged through his belongings, searching for a pen and a scrap piece of paper. "I'll assume that you're going to meet us there? Let me just get you the address."

"Don't bother," she shrugged. "I'm riding with you guys. My wings are tired anyways."

Dean rolled his eyes. That was just great. Terrific. Fan-freaking-_tastic_. "Can't you drive?" He was surprised as her cheeks flushed crimson.

"Well…no. I don't _technically _have a car." Her smile was sheepish. "The one you saw was…stolen—I returned it though."

'_Figures,'_ thought Dean with a snort. "Whatever. Let's just go already. It's a long drive to South Dakota."

For the sixteen hours they drove, the boys had talked in hushed voices about strategies—strategies for ganking Lucifer and what to do with daughter of an unknown angel—while Krysta had slept for almost the entire drive, only waking up the few times they stopped for food.

Their first stop had been for supper. They had decided just to run into a fast-food burger joint. Sam had ordered a garden salad with grilled chicken on it, along with a coffee. Dean had ordered two double cheeseburgers, an order of fries, an order of onion rings, and a coffee. They both looked at Krysta in shock when she ordered the same meal as Dean. "What?" she shrugged. "I'm hungry!"

By the time she had finished eating her entire order, Krysta was lying in the back seat of the Impala, clutching her stomach and groaning in pain. The boys had decided to leave the subject alone; she _had _said she was hungry. Who were they to argue?

That was, until she ordered three Bacon and Egg McMuffins—complete with hash browns and coffee—for breakfast, followed by two chicken burgers, a taco, fries, and a Coke for lunch only hours later. Each time she ate every last bite. Sam was starting to get worried. Krysta looked like she weighed about 120 pounds…how did _she_ eat more than _him_? That couldn't be healthy!

Finally, Dean cracked. "Ya know," he started, "you're a skinny chick and you're eating as much as me…where the hell are you putting it all?" He watched in the rearview mirror as she smirked at him and patted her full belly.

Krysta answered in mock seriousness. "It's a gift, really. I'm actually a superhero! I have the power to eat like a grown man. _Or_, it could be that my angel-half's powers use up a lot of my human-half's energy, making me super hungry all the time and then burning off the calories later." She pretended to ponder this. Then, with a shake of her head, "Nah, that's dumb. I'm sticking with the superhero theory."

Dean and Sam both burst out laughing and didn't stop for the next few miles. _'Finally!' _Krysta thought, smiling to herself as she stretched back out across the seat, ready to fall back into blissful oblivion.

When they reached Bobby's, Krysta took a moment to stretch out her stiff muscles. Sleeping in the back seat wasn't too comfortable. "So," she yawned, rubbing her eyes sleepily as they walked to the house, "Bobby Singer's another hunter."

Sam nodded, "Yep, one of the best."

"Looks like Ellen and Jo beat us here." Dean pointed to their truck.

Krysta looked at Sam questioningly. "More hunter friends," he explained.

Bobby greeted them at the door; a scruffy looking man in a wheelchair wearing a baseball cap. He was friendly enough as he welcomed Krysta, though she could tell he was wary of her. There were three figures sitting in the kitchen; a girl, a woman, and a man with his back turned to Krysta. Bobby had explained to her that Jo and her mom Ellen were close friends and were going to help them kill Lucifer. However, he didn't say anything about the man.

Jo looked close to Krysta's age. She was very pretty; long, blonde hair, dark eyes, and a slight figure. She was drinking a beer and watching as the other two did shots. There were five in front of each of them at the moment, but empty shot glasses littered the table.

Ellen was middle-aged, but still very good looking. Her light hair fell just past her shoulders and she grinned after doing two of her shots. "Alright big boy," she teased, "go."

From what Krysta could see, the man had dark, disheveled hair and was wearing a trench coat. Krysta watched in amusement as he did all five shots in a row and then said in a deep, very serious voice, "I think I'm starting to feel something."

"Hey guys!" Dean exclaimed.

"Dean! Sam!" Jo cried. She jumped up and ran to wrap the brothers in a hug. "Good to see ya!"

Ellen and the man stood up. As he turned to face them, Krysta got a better look at him. He was wearing a white shirt underneath the trench coat and a blue tie that was turned the wrong way. Contrasting his hair, he had bright blue eyes; eyes that Krysta immediately recognized.

"…Uncle Cas?"

Castiel looked confused for a moment before his face filled with recognition. "Krysta! What are you doing here?"


	10. Chapter 9 Who's Your Daddy?

Chapter 9 – Who's Your Daddy?

Dean's head whipped around, shifting his gaze from Jo to Krysta. "You know him?" he asked, puzzled.

Krysta let out an exaggerated sigh. "Well, he _is _my uncle…" Her sarcasm drifted off upon receiving Dean's glare, deciding that his "I-am-so-_not_-in-the-freaking-mood-for-this" expression probably wasn't one to mess with. There was an uncomfortable silence before Dean turned his glare to Castiel.

"And _when_ exactly," he shouted, "were _you_ planning on telling us this?"

The angel shrugged. "It was not necessary until now," he simply stated. He frowned at Krysta and crossed his arms over his chest. "You should not be here."

Krysta rolled her eyes and snorted. "It's good to see you too, Cas. I'm _really_ feeling the love." He tilted his head and Krysta could practically see the gears turning in his brain—it didn't make sense to him for her to say that. She almost went over to hug him and his "lost puppy" expression. Almost. She sighed. "That was sarcasm. Look, Uncle Cas, what are _you_ doing here?"

Castiel stood up taller, pride flooding his face. "I am a part of 'Team Freewill,' as Dean puts it," he said seriously. Krysta looked at Dean mockingly, her eyebrows raised, as he shook his head. His silent message of "don't ask" was clear. Castiel continued. "I'll ask you again, Krysta. What are you doing here?"

Smirking, Krysta answered, her gaze still locked on the eldest Winchester. It was similar to that of a cat about to pounce. "I guess I'm the newest addition to _'Team Freewill'_."

Dean scowled as she laughed. Yeah, there was no way she was gonna let that go.

"Wait," Sam intervened, "Cas, what did you mean when you said that she 'shouldn't be here'? I know she's your niece and all but I'm sure she knows how dangerous this is gonna be…" Bobby nodded in agreement.

The angel shook his head vigorously. "That is not what I meant, Sam." Krysta looked at her uncle in confusion. Where was he going with this? She tensed, knowing that she probably wasn't going to like the answer to her unasked question.

Jo had been silently observing their conversation from beside her mother. By now, she was just about to explode with her burning curiosity. "Well then, what did ya mean, angel-boy?" she asked, tapping her foot impatiently.

Castiel turned to her and Jo shifted uncomfortably under his gaze; it was like he was looking right through her.

He sighed in exasperation. "I _mean_, with the angels trying to kill her and the demons trying to kidnap her…one of the two should have happened by now." He ran his fingers through his messy hair uncomfortably, wishing he didn't have to be the one to tell them this.

Every human in the room balked at what Castiel told them.

Krysta however, paled. _'He wouldn't…'_ She directed her next thoughts towards the offending angel, frozen in fear, dreading the next words that would come out of his mouth. _'Uncle Cas, don't you dare! Please! Please don't do this to me!' _she begged.

Ellen immediately took a step forward, partially shielding her daughter. "And why the hell would they be doing that?" she demanded in a low, dangerous voice. Her glare was fixed on Krysta as her hand twitched for her gun.

Krysta's eyes were wild as she tried to explain, only to find that her voice had been taken from her. Her hand flew up to her throat in surprise while her mouth still tried to form soundless protests. As she shot an accusing glare at her uncle, tears started to well up in her eyes. _'I'm sorry,' _he spoke to her mind.

Castiel looked at Krysta when he spoke, his eyes full of pity. "It was not something that _she_ did," he assured Ellen, sighing in relief as she relaxed slightly.

"It is because of who her father is—Lucifer."

Krysta froze. As soon as Castiel had said the name "Lucifer," the five hunters had instantly drawn their weapons. Their target; her. She gulped. Their faces were contorted with pure hatred and anger as the jumble of shouts assaulted her ears.

Jo had become defensive. "I had a bad feeling about this from the moment I laid eyes on her!" she cried, trying to shift any blame from her. "Y'all should've been more careful!"

"You idjets!" growled Bobby. "Can't believe I even let her in my damn house! What," he shouted at Krysta, "you think I'm washed out or somethin'? That I'm just some old crank who's lost my touch? I'll show _you_ washed out..."

"I swear to God, if you lay a finger on my daughter, I'll make you wish you hadn't been born!" threatened Ellen, her mother-bear instincts kicking in. Tilting her head, her expression became even more ferocious as she snarled, "No, I'll make you _wish_ you could die a slow, painful death! Why, by the time I'm done with you..."

Her voice was drowned out by Sam's. "Dammit!" he yelled. "This is _just_ like Ruby! I should have known! I'm not gonna let some evil _bitch_ screw with me and my family...not _again_!"

"'S not your fault, Sammy," Dean reassured him. His low voice was full of venom as he glared at Krysta. "The bitch tricked us all! You couldn't have known. Let's just gank her before—"

All at once, the room went quiet. The group of hunters' eyes grew wide as their mouths gaped open in shock; they couldn't produce any sound.

Castiel cut through the silence. "Quiet," he said in a low voice that was almost a whisper. It was easily heard in the silent room. His face was set with fierce determination. "_No one_," he directed mainly towards Dean, "will be _ganking _Krysta." A force to be reckoned with, he returned Krysta's voice with a wave of his hand, leaving the hunters to fume in silence.

Gasping at the sudden tingling feeling in her throat, Krysta turned to Castiel—still wary of the weapons that were trailing her—the hurt of his betrayal clear on her face. "Why?" she croaked, tears threatening to fall.

He turned to the humans. "We will be back." Castiel then proceeded to grab Krysta roughly by the wrist and flash them both out of Bobby's house.


	11. Chapter 10 Jo 1, Angel Boy 0

Chapter 10 – Jo-1, Angel Boy-0

Everyone but Dean was thinking along the same, confused lines: What. The. _Hell_!

Dean's thoughts were much angrier and obvious as he stormed around the kitchen, mouthing a string of profanities that impressed even Sam. He had a much more colorful vocabulary than he let off.

As Sam, Bobby, and Ellen watched Dean's tirade, Jo's head snapped up. Immediately after Cas and Krysta flashed out, she had collapsed into one of the small kitchen chairs. Rather than waste everyone's time getting pissed off—she threw a glare in Dean's direction—she would find a solution. Eyes bright and a smirk on her face, she ran into Bobby's study, the rest of the hunters staring curiously after her—even Dean stood still.

Jo thrust her hand into a desk drawer and pulled out a large piece of paper. Snatching up five pens, she ran back into the kitchen and slammed everything down onto the table.

_Ha!_ she scribbled. _Jo-1, Angel boy-0_

The pens were quickly seized, everyone wondering why _they_ hadn't thought of something so simply brilliant. They all gathered around the table, transferring their thoughts onto the paper.

Dean grinned. _Great idea Jo! I'm gonna kill Cas. Seriously man…that son of a bitch! _

Bobby shot him a sour look before he scratched out _Language, boy!_

Rolling his eyes, Sam gave the old hunter a pointed look. _Please, like you're any better..._

_My house, my rules, Sam._

_Yeah? Well you can shove your rules right up where the sun don't shine!_

Jo glared at them. _Guys! _she wrote._ I didn't go grab this stuff so that y'all could bitch at each other! Look, the thing is, we need a plan._

_Well, once I KILL Cas for this, we SHOULD get our voices back…_

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Jo sighed, trying to keep herself from smacking Dean. _That's not what I'm talking about…_

_Yeah, jerk. She means Krysta!_

_Bitch._

_Dean…_

Ellen decided it was time she broke things up. _Oh, Bobby, you're gonna have to get over it. Those boys aren't gonna stop cursing anytime soon and you know it._

…_Shut up…_

_HELLO! FOCUS PLEASE! KRYSTA? LITERALLY THE SPAWN OF THE DEVIL? AM I RINGIN' ANY BELLS HERE?_

_Jeez…have a cow. Like I said before. We gank her. End of story._ Dean fought back a grunt as he rubbed his sore arm. _OW! _ Jo had one hell of a right-hook.

_No, not end of story, _she huffed.

_Yeah, bro, you heard what Cas said. _

…_Cas ain't gonna be alive to see it…_

Ellen would have laughed out loud…if she had her voice that was. _Please. We ALL know you won't kill him._

_Oh really?_

_Break it up, you two. Here's what I think. We keep her alive. We can lock her up in the Panic room. I've got sigils all over the inside. She won't be able to flash out._

Sam turned to Bobby curiously. _Since when?_

_Since Cas showed up. I haven't been alive this long without being prepared for anything…_

_Why keep her alive? What's the point of babysitting her? _ Dean crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at the other hunters, waiting expectantly.

Ellen gave him an amused glance. _Well, Dean-o, if we have a HOSTAGE under our belt, we're one step ahead of the game._

_So we're all agreed? _Jo looked around the room and smiled as everyone nodded. _Good. Panic room it is._

Not even a minute after this was written, Castiel flashed back into the house and quickly glanced at their conversation. He held an unconscious Krysta in his arms. Without a word, he carried her down the stairs and into the Panic room. Jo followed him and watched as he placed her carefully on the cot in the middle of the room.

Castiel then proceeded to walk out and close the heavy door, like it was nothing—locking it from the outside He turned to Jo and, with another wave of his hand, returned everyone's voices. Just like that, he was gone.


	12. Chapter 11 The Panic Room

Chapter 11 – The Panic Room

Krysta moaned and scrunched her eyes tighter together, covering her face with her hands. There was a light—way too bright for her liking—directly above her. The only sound she heard was the soft _woosh, woosh, woosh_ing of a large fan. Where the hell was she? Sighing, she opened her eyes to see that the fan was part of a large air-vent leading outside, the sun shining in through it. Below the vent was a grill with metal work in the shape of a devil's trap.

"Dammit," she groaned, "please don't be…" Sitting up and looking around the room, she growled, "of course."

There was a large devil's trap that spanned the entire ground of the cylindrical room. Along with the cot she was sitting on, there were two desks, two chairs, a fold-up bed against the wall, a mirror, and a bookshelf. The room looked to be well stocked in case of emergencies—it was full of various supplies and equipment. She rolled her eyes at the poster of a woman in a bathing suit hanging on the wall. The most pertinent features of the room were the Enochian sigils that covered the walls.

A panic room…she was in a panic room. "Well, that's just freaking _peachy!_" she shouted. Jumping off the cot, she stormed over to the door. It, along with all of the walls, was made of iron and, most likely—seeing as this was a _hunter's _panic room—salt. She banged her fist against it; so hard, it made her hand throb. "I know someone's out there!" she cried. "I swear to God, if you don't open this door _right now_, you're gonna regret it!" Krysta waited a few moments before she cried out in frustration. Kicking the door she screamed "_Open the damn door!_"

When no one responded, she stormed around the room, destroying everything she could—she needed to let out her anger somehow. As well, she bellowed every profanity she knew in every language she could speak at the top of her lungs. The sigils had rendered her powers useless—flashing away to New Zealand was out—but her human half was still very strong.

When she was finished, the desks were kicked over, broken in half, and had their legs ripped off. Chairs were thrown across the room, leaving them in a mangled heap of metal amongst the chunks of wood that used to be the desk legs. The bookshelf was tipped over, a giant hole now in the back. The supplies and equipment were destroyed and added to the growing pile of metal and wood against the far wall. Books had their pages torn out, the mattress on the fold-out bed was cut open, the bed itself was ripped off of the wall, and the poster was shredded.

The cot however, remained intact, sitting in the center of the disaster zone. Krysta sat on it panting, her fingers and nails bloody, her throat sore, and her right hand throbbing. She massaged it absentmindedly as she thought about how she had ended up in this mess.

_She hadn't been able to move once Uncle Cas revealed her identity. She was frozen in fear, a fear she hadn't felt in a long time. The hunters' weapons and verbal assaults had instantly been directed at her. Her voice was gone, she couldn't protest, try to placate them, or even stick-up for herself. She looked from hunter to hunter, barely able to make out what they were saying; everyone was yelling too loudly, too quickly, and all at the same time. Just when she couldn't take it anymore, the room went quiet. _

_The group of hunters' eyes grew wide as their mouths gaped open in shock—she almost laughed in glee; they couldn't produce any sound! Served them right!_

_Castiel cut through the silence. "Quiet," he said in a low voice that was almost a whisper. His face was set with fierce determination. "No one," he directed towards Dean, "will be ganking Krysta." _

_With a wave of his hand, she felt her voice return, gasping at the sudden tingling sensation in her throat. She turned towards Castiel, watching the guns out of the corner of her eyes but not really caring about them. His betrayal hurt more than any bullet could._

"_Why?" she had asked, her voice rough as she fought back tears. _

_Castiel looked at her with sad eyes before turning back to the humans. "We will be back," he said. Then, she was grabbed roughly by the wrist and flashed out of the house._

_They had ended up in the middle of the salvage yard, surrounded by scrap metal and cars stacked precariously high. As soon as she had felt her feet touch the ground, she ripped her arm away from her uncle's and grabbed the Colt. _'_If I'm going down,_'_ she thought, _'_there's no way they're getting this!_'_ She proceeded to send it and the bullets away, somewhere her uncle and the Winchesters wouldn't find them. She had thought about running, escaping, flying to God-knows-where, but she knew they would find her. They would follow her, or track her, or stop her somehow. It looked like all there was to do was face her uncle._

_She turned on him and punched him square in the jaw—repeatedly. His head whipped sharply from side to side with each hit, him making no move to stop her. She was hurt and angry; not a good combination. She shouted at him; a word with every blow. "How—could—you? You—freaking—DICK! I'm—royally—screwed—now—and—it's—all—your—FAULT! Dammit! WHY?" _

_Stepping back and breathing heavily, she looked at her hands; bright purple and blue bruises were starting to appear and they were covered in blood, not all of it her own. Castiel had already healed himself and moved towards her. Warily, she took a step back, but he placed his hands over hers, healing them as well. She gritted her teeth, her jaw set. There was no way in hell she was about to thank him. _

_Castiel rubbed the back of his neck, the tension was so think you could cut through it with a machete. "Krysta—" he started._

"_Don't," she growled, holding up a hand to stop him, and pinching the bridge of her nose. Part of her wanted to hit him again. Part of her wanted to burst out crying. It was all she could do to keep from doing either one. "Don't think that you can say anything to fix this. Dammit, Cas, I know we didn't leave on good terms, but this was my one chance to fix my shitty life and you ruined it!" _

_Leaving on bad terms was actually an understatement. They had met once before, after a Demon named Victor had killed her boyfriend. Castiel had come just in time to see the carnage: a dead boyfriend, a dead demon, a sobbing Krysta, and a demolished house. Once they had realized who the other was, Castiel had tried to kill her, just doing his duty, as he told her. She barely escaped, screaming obscenities after him, and managing to give him a nasty slice across the chest with his own blade before she left._

"_Krysta, I am sorry, but they needed to know." He held his hands up in a placating gesture._

_She laughed bitterly. "Oh really? And why is that? So that they kill me?" she spat. Her eyes fiery, she threw her hands up in frustration and continued. "I mean, that IS what you want, isn't it?" _

_Castiel flinched at that. She wasn't sure which surprised her more; that he had flinched, or that he looked seriously hurt at her comment._

_Suddenly, his face filled with determination and he clenched his fists at his sides. "No one will kill you, Krysta." _

"_You're right, they won't. Not because of you…but because I'd like to see them try." She laughed humorlessly at the thought. _

_Castiel shook his head and she narrowed her eyes at him. "You still didn't answer me though. Why would they need to know who my dad is? It's not important."_

_He seemed to be struggling with how to word his answer. "Because…because they need to stop the apocalypse. To do that, they need every bit of information available to them." _

_She raised an eyebrow at him; there was something he was hiding from her. Crossing her arms over her chest, she told him in a low voice, "I will NEVER forgive you for this," as she turned away and closed her eyes. She could tell that this was a fight she wouldn't win_

_She felt his fingers touch her forehead and her knees gave away, Castiel's strong arms catching her. The words "I'm sorry" were the last things she heard before falling asleep._

As she sat in the panic room, she held her head in her hands. _'Don't you dare cry,' _she thought to herself. _'Don't you dare…don't…' _She swore as a tear ran down her cheek.

Krysta jumped slightly as her phone vibrated in her pocket; she had forgotten she even had it! It was an old flip-open phone and it had lasted years of abuse. That was why she kept it. She looked at the screen to see that someone had sent her a text message.

"That's weird," she muttered, frowning. She clicked on the small icon shaped like an envelope and her eyes grew wide at the message, more so, the sender.

_They're royally pissed. What the hell did you do?—C_

What the hell? Immediately she replied, her thumbs flying over the keypad.

_How the hell did you get my number?—K _

Krysta tapped her fingers on the frame of the cot, impatiently waiting for another message. She bit her lip nervously; her phone number had been changed the night before while the Winchesters were asleep. So how the hell did _he _get it?

The "1 unread message" icon popped back up as her phone vibrated again. She opened the message eagerly.

_Not important. I didn't help you with your gun conundrum so you could sit on your ass wasting time.—C_

Rolling her eyes and scoffing, she typed a message quickly and sent it. He seriously pissed her off. Why had she even gone to him in the first place?

_I am NOT wasting time! This is SO not my fault! CAS decided to tell them who I am! I'm doing my best here!—K_

Her phone vibrated and she sighed as she read the message.

_Get D and S to trust you. Kill L. End of story.—C_

She flopped back onto the cot, crying out in frustration. She shoved her phone angrily into her pocket and threw her arm over her eyes.

"I am so screwed."


	13. Chapter 12 Kid's A Pistol

Chapter 12 – Kid's A Pistol

Jo had walked back upstairs, sighing when she saw the other hunters looking behind her expectantly.

"He's gone, guys," she had said simply.

"Gone?" Dean echoed. "Gone where?" Jo only shrugged and walked back into the kitchen. She sat back down and continued drinking her beer, Ellen and Bobby following her shortly after.

Dean grit his teeth, he had wanted to have a few choice words with the dick of an angel who stole their voices. "Dammit," he growled as he grabbed two beers, handing one to his little brother. The two of them walked into Bobby's study and sat down at his desk. Dean picked up a map of Missouri, his eyes moving over it quickly. The boys were silent for a few moments as Sam contemplated the day's events. Finally, the quiet became unbearable and Sam broke it by sighing.

"It's gotta be a trap, right?" he asked his brother.

Dean added the map to the cluttered mess that was the top of the desk and smirked. "Sam Winchester, having trust issues with some demon? Well, better late than never."

Sam chuckled. "Technically, she's not a demon. But yeah, and thank you again, for your continued support," he said mockingly, lifting his beer bottle. Dean knocked the neck of his own bottle against Sam's saying, "You're welcome." The two boys took a swig of the alcohol while Sam laughed.

"You know," Dean started, leaning forward across the desk with his fingers knotted together, "if we've got a snowball's chance, we gotta take it, right?" He looked at his brother seriously, watching him as he thought this over.

"Yeah, I suppose," he agreed, nodding his head slowly.

Holding up his index finger, Dean continued. "Besides, I'm not sure this is a trap." He gathered up a few newspaper clippings and internet print-outs, showing them to Sam. "Check it out, Carthage is lit up like a Christmas tree—Revelation omens." He looked his brother in the eye before thrusting another stack of papers at him. "And, there's been six 'missing person's reported _in town _since _Sunday_."

Sam looked up from them quickly, shock covering his face. Okay, things were definitely bad enough for them to check it out.

"I think the devil's there," Dean stated, leaning back in his chair and taking another drink of his beer.

"Okay," Sam said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Dean opened his mouth, but before he could speak, everyone turned to look at the door leading to the basement. A loud, frustrated, and pissed-off voice had just cried out "Well, that's just freaking _peachy!_"

Krysta was awake.

The banging on the panic room door was loud, insistent, and immediate. She had to have been hitting it awfully hard for them to hear her from upstairs.

"Well damn," Bobby muttered as he chuckled darkly, "that's gonna hurt her hand later."

"I know someone's out there!" Krysta cried out as the banging continued. "I swear to God, if you don't open this door _right now_, you're gonna regret it!"

Jo made her face into a mask of fake terror, her hands flying to either side of her face. "Ooh, I'm so scared right now." Dean and Sam only rolled their eyes. The house was peaceful for a moment before every hunter jumped in response to Krysta suddenly screaming "_Open the damn door!_"

They exchanged meaningful looks before returning to what they had been doing. They would ignore her for now. This proved to be very difficult, as Krysta started swearing obscenities at them—even Dean raised his eyebrows at her extensive vocabulary. Along with this, the sound of splintering wood and metal crashing against metal brought a murderous look to Bobby's face.

"She's gonna _destroy_ my panic room!" he growled as he crossed his arms, his hands balled into tight fists.

Dean chuckled. "Kid's a pistol, I'll give her that." Then he turned back to Sam and sighed. He rubbed his chin nervously. "Look man, when we go to Carthage…you can't come with." Sam gave him an incredulous look and started to retaliate, but Dean cut him off. "If you're there, then we are _handing _the devil's vessel, right over to him. That's not smart!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Since when have we ever done anything smart?" Damn, he had him there.

"I'm serious, Sam."

"So am I! Haven't we learned a damn thing?" Dean looked away. Couldn't Sammy see how worried he was? How tired? "Look, if we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it together," Sam stressed.

Dean growled and picked back up his beer. Fantastic. Fan-_freaking_-tastic! "Okay, but it's a stupid frigging idea."

They both drank in silence—Dean's thoughts frustrated, Sam's triumphant—before Sam furrowed his brow. "Do you hear that?" he asked.

Dean strained his ears for a moment, wondering what Sammy was on about, before his eyes widened. "She shut up. How long has she been quiet for?"

Their eyes met once again, both with the clear message of "Oh shit."

Their drinks deserted, the boys raced downstairs to the panic room. They stopped at the door, listening. Silence. She couldn't have gotten out and that's exactly what worried Dean. He opened the door noisily, the hinges creaking in protest, and peered in. He was greeted with a chunk of wood to the face.


	14. Chapter 13 My Bad

Chapter 13 – My Bad

"_That's_ for locking me in the freaking _panic room_!" Krysta shouted. There was a ferocious look on her face.

Dean quickly dodged the next wooden missile that was sent his way. "_Son of a_ _bitch_!"

"_That's _for being an _enormous jackass_!" She bent over and picked up the mangled remains of a metal chair. "And _this_ is because I am _super pissed off right now!_"

Dean cried out as he dropped to the floor. The chair flew through the doorway, coming within an inch of the top of his head before it crashed against the stairs. He looked up warily to see Krysta growl in frustration and stomp over to the cot. She sat down on it—Indian style—and crossed her arms, pointedly glaring at everything but Sam and Dean.

Dean stood up slowly, still worried about getting something else thrown at him, and looked at his brother. Sam had been standing safely behind the door, trying to stifle a laugh at his brother's worry. He snorted as Dean flipped him off in annoyance.

As the boys peaked into the panic room, they were filled with awe. How could a girl of _her _size make such a _disaster_? It looked like a pissed off Wendigo had been released in the room! Dean groaned. Bobby was _not _going to be happy.

Sam set his jaw and walked towards Krysta, his brother not far behind. "No more games," he said. "We want the Colt. Hand it over." Dean crossed his arms and nodded in affirmation.

A sly grin appeared on Krysta's face. "Oh, _do you_ now?" Her mouth formed a small "o" as she feigned an apologetic expression. "Oops. Guess I shouldn't have sent it away…and made it _untraceable_." Turning towards the boys, Krysta gave them a wicked smile. "My bad."

"You're _lying_," Sam growled through gritted teeth. His hands were balled into fists that were so tight, his knuckles had turned white.

Krysta threw her head back as she barked out an angry laugh. "Guess again, Sasquatch. In fact," she stood up, fire filling her eyes, "I haven't lied _once _the _entire time _I've been with you _assholes_!"

Dean stormed up to Krysta, literally shaking with anger. He'd had enough. His face was inches from hers as he spat, "Oh really? Because I could have _sworn _you told us Lucifer_ wasn't_ your _father_!" He stumbled backwards when Krysta shoved him; he would later swear it was only because she'd caught him off guard.

"I never said that!" she shouted. "_I_ said it wasn't _important _who my dad was! _I_ said I needed your _help _to _kill _Lucifer! _I _said I needed you to _trust _me!"

Regaining his footing, Dean stood with his brother. "_Trust _you?" he hollered. "Ha! That's _rich_! If you wanted us to trust you so much, why didn't you tell us the _truth_?"

Gesturing to the panic room as a whole, Krysta spun in a circle. "_This _is why!" she cried. "I just _knew _that if you found out he's my dad, something like _this _would happen. I'd get locked in a freaking _panic room_…or _worse_!All because Lucifer isn't _just_ a dick, he's an _evil_ dick. I knew you'd automatically assume that _I'm _evil too." She sat back on the cot, her feet hanging off the side. Looking forlorn, she buried her face in her hands and mumbled, "Just like everyone else."

Dean and Sam's eyes wandered as they thought about what she had said. They remembered talking about her father back at the Motown Motel, how there had been brief flickers of emotions across her face, in her eyes; fear, anger, sadness, hatred.

"Aw crap," Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. She was right; they _had_ been dicks to her.

"Look, Krysta," Sam ran his fingers through his hair nervously; he didn't want to upset her more, but there was something he needed to know. "Why do you want to kill him? I mean, he _is _your dad…"

Her reaction dumbfounded him; she snorted. Krysta lifted her face out of her hands to look at Sam. "You mean, _besides _the fact that he's the _devil_ and is hell-bent—pardon the pun—on bringing about the apocalypse?" she drawled.

The smirk on her face dissipated as she sighed. "This is gonna sound totally cliché but, it's a long story."

As she spoke, her eyes glazed over. She was finally finding herself absorbed in the memories she had fought so hard to ignore. Dean and Sam sat quietly and attentively while she talked.

"My mom always said I was the gift of an angel." She laughed bitterly. "Some angel…"

_Amelia Star, Amy to her friends, stood in the kitchen of her small apartment. At the age of twenty-seven, she was still single, working as a secretary at a small, family-owned law firm. She stirred the thin slices of beef, cooking in a sauté pan, as she sighed in content at the homely—not to mention delicious—aroma they were giving off._

_The wooden spoon she was using clattered to the floor as she gasped in surprise; she had heard the fluttering of wings behind her. Did a bird get in? _

_Amy gave a small shriek when she spun around and saw a tall, blonde man standing behind her. She had locked all of the doors and windows; how did he get in?_

"_W-who are you?" she asked as she backed away from the strange man. As her back hit the counter, her breathing picked up as fear settled in._

_The man held his hands up in a calming gesture. "Do not fear me," he said. His voice was soothing, but the hairs on the back of Amy's neck still prickled up instinctively. "I am an angel of the Lord."_

_Amy's answering laugh was slightly hysterical. "Yeah, okay buddy, and I'm the freaking Queen of Hearts. Look, there's a hospital down the street, you might wanna get yourself checked out."_

_His chuckle sent shivers down her spine. "You're skeptical. That's understandable."_

_Suddenly, there was a flash of lightening. The once clear and sunny day was interrupted by a freak storm that disappeared just as quickly as it came. However, in that brief moment, the room had been lit up by the lightening and Amy gasped. The man's shadow included a pair of enormous wings. The feathers were no longer smooth and orderly, they were in disarray, some missing completely. It was a truly terrifyingly beautiful sight._

_Amy felt her knees buckle. _'Holy shit' _she thought, _'Mr. Nut-Job really _is_ an angel!'

"_I-I'm s-s-sorry," she sputtered, having a difficult time finding her voice. "I didn't mean any disrespect—"_

_The angel held up a hand to stop her. "Do not fear me, child." He spoke with a smirk. "You have been chosen."_

_Amy's eyes bulged. "Ch-chosen? Chosen for what?"_

"_You have been chosen to carry a very important child…much like Mary had been."_

_Amy was close to hyperventilating. She gripped the counter for support. "Wait, do you mean…I'm going to have the next Jesus?" She was incredulous. _

_The angel grinned slyly. "Something like that." He walked towards her slowly and placed his hands on her shoulders, looking deep into her eyes. "Nine months from now, you are going to give birth to a baby girl. She will be very special and will help us deliver the world into greatness."_

_There was another fluttering of wings and the angel was gone. Amy slid to the floor, hands resting on her abdomen as she concentrated on keeping her breathing even._

_True to his words, on March 16, 1990—exactally nine months later—Amy gave birth to a little girl with shining brown eyes. She named her Krysta._


	15. Chapter 14 We'll Find You

Chapter 14 – We'll Find You

Krysta gave the boys a sad smile. "My mom was amazing," she said warmly. "When I was four, my powers started showing up. She wasn't afraid of me—like other people would have been—she embraced and made me feel better about them. She just kept telling me I was special. By the time I was ten, she was married and I had a little sister—Ava." On her sister's name, Krysta's voice cracked. Tears sprung to her eyes as she continued.

"I never showed my powers to my dad, Paul, or Ava. My mom was fine, but I didn't want to freak them out. Things were going great. Obviously it wouldn't last…"

"_Daddy, stop! That's no fair!" Krysta giggled as her stomach was tickled mercilessly; helplessly pinned on her back. _

"_Paul, do you really have to rile her up before bed?" Amy leaned against the door-frame. She tried to give her husband a stern look, but she couldn't keep the amusement out of her voice. _

_Paul smirked at her. "Sorry, dear."_

_Rolling her eyes, Amy walked over to her family; baby Ava asleep in her crib. She kissed her husband briefly—Krysta covered her eyes, muttering about "cooties"—then tucked her eldest daughter into bed. _

"_Goodnight, sweetheart," she whispered, kissing Krysta softly on the forehead. "Sleep well. God has big plans for you."_

_Amy and Paul's heads whipped around to the doorway. A man in his twenties was standing there, his laughter alerting them to his presence. He was tall and had the build of a football player. His brilliant red hair contrasted his green eyes. "Well," he drawled, "big plans—sure. But I _doubt _he's _your _God…" Blinking, his eyes turned pitch-black._

_Krysta screamed and pulled the covers up to her eyes; terrified, but too afraid to look away._

_Paul stood up, trying to protect his family. "What the hell are you?" he shouted. "Get out of my house!"_

_The demon yawned. "I'm only here to collect," he said, "and _you _bore me." With a flick of his wrist, Paul's neck snapped and his body slumped to the floor. _

_Amy screamed and sobbed with her daughter. Through the tears, she managed to choke out, "Collect what?"_

_He smirked and Amy cried out as she collided with the wall; she couldn't move. The demon turned to the frightened girl under the covers._

"_It's Krysta, right?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. "My, how you've grown. Let's go, kid. Time to meet daddy."_

_Krysta's eyes widened at the mention of "daddy." Paul was amazing as a surrogate father, but there was always that nagging curiosity…_

"_Who is he?" her little voice quivered._

_The demon's grin was terrifying. "He's the one who made _me_; Lucifer."_

_Amy started to scream again. "Krysta, honey, run! Flash away and don't look back!" _

_The demon glared at Amy, growling. She screamed in agony as she was engulfed in fire and began to burn alive. Amy was able to cry out one more "Run!" as her skin blistered and blackened._

_Krysta obeyed, tears streaming down her face. She disappeared, hearing the demon shouting after her:_

"_You can't hide forever! Wherever you go, we'll find you!"_


	16. Chapter 15 Levi

Chapter 15 - Levi

Krysta choked back a sob. "I found out a few days later that the house had completely burnt down. There were no survivors…not even Ava. She was only a year old. Of course, the demon was never found."

For the first time in years, Krysta allowed the tears to stream down her face, not even bothering to wipe them off. Sam put a hand on her shaking shoulder in reassurance as he and his brother shared a look. They both silently agreed that, either she was a seriously talented liar, or that, damn, they had majorly jumped the gun on judging her. They chose to believe the later.

"I'm sorry," mumbled Sam.

Krysta wiped her tear-stained cheeks with the back of her hands and gave him a small smile. "Thanks, but the story's not over yet; not even close. I had been living on the street for a few months when he found me again."

_Krysta sat huddled in the doorway of a closed Costco. As it got darker, she shivered. She shrank back as a short, concerned-looking, bald man approached her._

"_Where's your mom, sweetie?" he asked, kneeling down to her level._

_Krysta looked at the man with wide eyes before the tears started to fall. The man looked uncomfortable as he rubbed the back of his neck. _

"_Aww…geez, kid. C'mon, don't do that. Uh…how about we get you something to eat, huh? That sound good?"_

_Sniffling, Krysta nodded. "Kay." She wiped away her tears and got up, walking with the man into a McDonald's. Looking around the restaurant, she was surprised to see that it was deserted; there weren't even any workers! Also, there were strange symbols, painted in red, all over the walls. Krysta turned to the man in confusion and shrieked as his eyes turned black._

"_Miss me, kid?" he smiled. "It's me, Jackson! We met a few months ago at your place! Like my new meat-suit?"_

_Krysta backed into the wall whimpering. She tried to flash away, but found herself unable. _

_Jackson chuckled. "Nice try," he said as he pointed to the walls. "See these? They're Enochian sigils. Your powers won't work with _them _on the walls." He grinned cruelly as he stalked slowly towards her._

_Suddenly, he stopped. "What the hell?" he growled. It was as if he had hit an invisible wall. He looked up and cursed. _

_Looking up, Krysta noticed a rather large pentagram painted on the ceiling._

"_Get behind me, kid!" Krysta whipped her head to the left and saw another man beckoning to her, his hand stretched out. This man was in his early twenties, his shaggy black hair falling into his green eyes. He was skinny, but fit, and the kind smile he gave Krysta made her trust him._

_She sprinted over to the dark-haired man—giving the demon a wide berth—and he placed his hands on her shoulders, looking her over. "You hurt?" he asked, his voice serious. She shook her head and he stepped in front of her, placing himself between her and Jackson. "I'm Levi."_

"_Krysta," she replied, her voice not more than a whisper._

"_Well, Krysta," his voice was low, "cover your ears."_

_She did as she was told and watched as Levi spoke to Jackson, a muffled chant seeping through the barrier of her hands. Her eyes grew impossibly wider as Jackson began to shudder and struggle with some invisible force. After what seemed like forever, Jackson screamed and a black smoke flew out of his mouth before seeping through the floor._

_Krysta uncovered her ears and stared up at Levi in wonder. "What happened? Where did it go? I mean, that _was _a demon, right?"_

_Levi cocked one eyebrow up at her—how come _she _couldn't do that?—and crossed his arms. "I exorcized it; sent it back to Hell. How do _you _know about _demons_?" Krysta shrugged and looked down at her feet. _

_Sighing, Levi ran a hand through his hair. "Alright, where're your parents, kid?" The tears that sprang to her eyes as she looked over at Jackson's body answered his question. "Shit. I'm sorry, kiddo. Look, don't worry. We'll find someone to take care of you." He scrunched his eyebrows together when she shook her head vehemently._

"_No," she said. He voice started off small, but grew stronger as she spoke. "I wanna learn how to do that; how to fight monsters. To do what _you _do."_

"_Sorry, Krysta, but this isn't something a kid should be doing." He ruffled her hair affectionately. She could be a kid, have a life, friends. No one—_especially _a kid—should have his job._

_Levi tried not to laugh at the angry pout she settled into as she crossed her arms. _

"_Look, Levi," Krysta said, trying to sound as grown up as she could. She wasn't about to take "no" for an answer. "That demon, Jackson, said they were coming for me. He said they'd find me. Would you really leave a _little kid _unprotected?" _

_As she turned on the puppy-dog eyes, Levi couldn't help but chuckle. Damn kid was guilt-tripping him. She definitely had the manipulation skills of a hunter. Wait…_

"_Why are they after you, kid?" Krysta looked back at her feet as she toed the ground. Guilt was written all over her face. Levi looked around, finally noticing the strange symbols on the walls. "What are those?" he asked, his eyes narrowing._

"_Umm…" her brow furrowed in concentration, "he said they were E-Eno-Enok—"_

"_Enochian sigils?" Levi gaped._

_Krysta nodded gratefully, glad she didn't have to struggle with the big word any longer._

_Levi couldn't believe it. _They _weren't supposed to exist! "But they…that means that…are you…are you an _angel_?"_

"_No…my daddy was." Levi noticed the fear fill her eyes when she mentioned her dad, but decided not to push the subject. He scratched his arm uncomfortably. He couldn't teach a _little kid _to _hunt_! But the kid was half-_angel _for crying out loud! Everyone and every_thing_ would be after her! Damn moral dilemmas. _

_After a long moment of arguing with himself—and having Krysta force that damn, hard-to-refuse, pleading look down his throat—he sighed deeply._

"_Fine, kid. I'll teach ya."_


	17. Chapter 16 A Demonic Ginger

Chapter 16 – A Demonic Ginger

When Krysta talked about Levi, she looked truly happy. "Levi always made everything better," she stated. "He taught me everything I know. He taught me about devil's traps—like the one he had used to trap Jackson—and Enochian sigils. I learned how to throw a punch and take a hit, how—and when—to use just about every weapon known to man, and I learned about all sorts of supernatural creatures and their weaknesses. Hell," she laughed, "he even taught me how to raise one eyebrow." She proceeded to do so, as if to prove a point.

Krysta looked at the sigils in the panic room and smiled as she remembered her time with Levi. Her face mirrored the affectionate look Sam and Dean had when they thought about each other.

"He was like the big brother I never had. He didn't freak when he found out about my powers. He researched what he could and showed me that I could do good things with them." Krysta gave the boys a sly look. "I guess you could say he kept me from going dark side."

Dean looked at her curiously. "Well, what happened to him?"

Krysta's face screwed up in pain. "I was sixteen. We had just killed a coven of vamps down in Colorado.

_Krysta grabbed one of the vampire's bed-sheets and started wiping the blood off of her machete. She looked over at Levi, who was doing the same, and smirked._

"_Give it here," she ordered smugly._

_Levi's head shot up and he gave her a disbelieving glare. "Are you kidding? No way!"_

_Krysta re-sheathed her weapon and crossed her arms. "Dude! I _totally _killed more than you!"_

_Mirroring her, the man smirked. "Mmm…nope, I don't think you did."_

_She raised an eyebrow at him. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Embarrassed that you only killed three compared to my six? That you were beaten by a little girl?"_

_Levi grumbled as he pulled out his wallet. "Little girl my ass," he said, holding out a twenty dollar bill. "Besides, you had an unfair advantage."_

_Krysta snatched the money from him. "Puh-lease. You _know _I don't use my powers unless it's an emergency. I won, fair and square." She started to chuckle as she walked towards the vehicle they'd stolen—a blue Ford F150. "Have fun cleaning up, princess!" she called behind her._

"_Krysta!"_

_She spun around just in time to be slammed backwards by an invisible force. Her head hit the wall and Krysta hissed in pain as the room started to spin. She felt blood start to trickle from the back of her head. "Damn."_

"_So this is Krysta," a southern voice drawled. A woman walked leisurely up to her. She had a short, thin stature with long, orange hair and freckles spattered across her face._

_Krysta rolled her eyes. This was _too_ good. The jokes were going to be too easy to crack…it almost wouldn't be fun._

"_Oh look, Levi," she smirked, "a demonic ginger."_

_Levi chuckled from across the room. He was pinned as well and had a cut bleeding on his forehead. Other than that, he seemed fine. Krysta breathed a sigh of relief. _

"_Oh no! Not a _ginger_!" he cried out in mock terror._

_The demon gave them a sour look. "Cute."_

"_So, who the hell are _you _supposed to be?" Krysta asked lightly._

_Twirling a finger through her hair flirtatiously, the demon smiled. "The name's Alice and _you _should show me some respect if you value your life."_

"_I'm absolutely shaking in fear," Krysta mocked. "What is it you want?"_

_Alice clicked her tongue and pulled a vicious-looking dagger out of her sleeve. She examined her reflection in the blade. "Isn't it obvious, hun? I'm here for you." She started to comb through her hair with her fingers while Krysta and Levi's eyes widened. They shared a horrified look as she continued. "Granted, it took me a while, but oh, won't he be happy to see you!"_

_Levi's eyes hardened. His hands clenched into fists and his jaw set. "You're not gonna _touch _her!" he growled through clenched teeth._

_Alice's bottom lip jutted out as she pouted. "Aww, no need to be like that, cutie." She walked over to Levi and started trailing her fingers up and down his arms as he gave her a disgusted look. "You and I could have _so _much fun," she purred._

_Gagging, Krysta groaned. "God, kill me now! Geez, Levi! You couldn't have found someone—_anyone_—better to seduce?" She smirked. "What about that Becky chick we saved in Cali, huh? I liked her. She was _so _much better than _this _slut!"_

_Alice turned slowly and glared at her murderously. "I can't touch _you_, bitch," she snarled, "but your little boy-toy here is free game!" She spun on her heel and jabbed the dagger roughly into Levi's heart. He shouted out in surprise and pain. Krysta's cry of "Levi!" was drowned out by the sound of Alice laughing and Levi's mangled scream as the dagger was twisted sharply. Alice ripped the knife out and let his body fall into a heap, blood pooling around it on the floor, his dead eyes still wide._

_Tears streamed silently down Krysta's face as Alice sauntered over to her. She smiled viciously. "Time to meet the devil."_

_Krysta felt the invisible bonds release her and she clenched her hands into fists. Alice had just made a _huge _mistake. _

_Krysta could feel a power growing in her palms—something she hadn't felt before—and decided to follow her instincts. She thrust her open palms onto the demon's forehead and felt a sickening amount of pleasure as a white light burned out of both Alice's eyes and mouth. The demon screamed momentarily before falling to the floor._

Krysta glared at the wall as she spoke. "That was the first time I killed a demon. After Levi died, I went underground and tried to have a relatively normal life. It was what he wanted for me. I, stupidly and naively, enrolled into a high school and made some friends. It actually worked for a while. But, few months ago, we went on a trip to Mount Rushmore and my best friend, Marie, was killed by another demon."

Krysta pulled her feet up onto the cot and hugged her knees, burying her face into them. Sam and Dean barely made out her mumble. "So many people I love are dead and it's _my fault_. I can't do it anymore. I just… I can't." She took in a shaky breath and looked at them. "You asked why I wanted my dad dead? There it is. Take it or leave it."

Same looked at his brother and Dean nodded.

"We believe you, kid," Dean assured her.

She flashed them a small smile. "Thanks."

Once the trio was outside of the panic room, Krysta flashed back the Colt and handed it to the boys. They headed up the stairs, Krysta hanging back just long enough to send a quick text without them noticing.

_I'm in—K _


	18. Chapter 17 Reapers

Chapter 17 – Reapers

Missing persons posters were plastered on lampposts, walls, store windows, and just about everything else. Carthage was a ghost town. The Impala drove slowly, windshield wipers clearing away the drops from the light drizzle, and was followed by Jo, Ellen, and Castiel in their truck. Krysta wanted to ride with Sam and Dean. There was still tension between her and Cas. That hadn't mattered, though. Jo and Ellen didn't trust her enough to let her ride with them anyways. As they drove, Sam, Dean, and Krysta held their cell phones out the windows.

"You getting a signal?" Sam sighed.

Krysta shook her head and tucked her phone back into her pocket. "Nada. Dean?"

"No, nothing," he replied. Dean looked around as he pulled the Impala over, waving for Ellen to do the same. "Nice and spooky."

When she was next to them, Ellen rolled down her window. "Place seem a little empty to you?"

"We're gonna go check out the PD." Dean had a bad feeling about Carthage, maybe the police could help them out—unknowingly, of course. "You guys stay here, see if you can find anybody." Then, Dean turned to face Krysta in the backseat. He gave her a stern look. "Stay here, kid. Help them out."

Krysta's jaw fell open in shock, quickly turning into a frown. "You have _got _to be kidding me." She crossed her arms and set her jaw. "There is no _way _I'm staying with _them_. Ellen and Jo hate me, and Uncle Cas…just…_no_."

Sam turned around to face her as well, backing up his big brother. "Krysta, they might need your help. Plus, we can't exactly go into a police department with a teenager…they won't believe us."

She wasn't going to break. It didn't matter what the Winchester brothers did, she would _not_—damn. Sam was giving her his infamous puppy-dog eyes. Why had she looked?

Grumbling to herself, Krysta stepped out of the Impala and into the rain, watching as Sam and Dean drove off. "Great."

Turning around, she watched Cas flash out of the truck and stare around the town incredulously. "This town's not empty," he murmured.

Krysta's brow furrowed in confusion as she looked around. Only then did she actually _see _the town. They were…_everywhere_. She walked over to stand beside her uncle. Sure, she was somewhat pissed off at him, but she still felt comforted by his presence. "Reapers," she breathed.

Ellen's eyes widened. "_Reapers_? As in more than _one_?"

The reapers stood on the streets, balconies, on rooftops…Krysta was extremely worried as she gazed upon them. This was not good. "They only gather like this in times of great catastrophe," she heard her uncle say. "Chicago fire, San Francisco quake…Pompeii."

The angel broke away from their small group saying, "Excuse me, I need to find out why they're here," as he walked through the mass of reapers who paid him no attention.

Ellen and Jo looked at each other questioningly; neither of _them_ could see the reapers.

They didn't protest when Krysta jogged after her uncle, slowing to a walk when she reached him. He turned to her and raised an eyebrow. Krysta sighed and her thoughts towards him as she rubbed the back of her neck uncomfortably. _'Look, this isn't easy for me to say but…I'm sorry, okay? For everything.'_

A small smile graced the angel's face as he spoke to her mind. _'Me too.'_

Happily, Krysta walked beside him, trying to keep up with his long, determined strides. When Cas stopped abruptly, so did she. What she saw sent a shiver down her spine.

In the second story window, in a theatre to their left, a reaper was looking directly at them. As it turned and walked away, Castiel flashed inside, Krysta not far behind.

It was dark inside; they could hear water running in a room at the end of the hall. Krysta nodded as her uncle raised a finger to his lips. _'Stay here,' _was his silent command. She bit her lip nervously as he walked down the hall and into the room, out of sight.

Suddenly, a voice spoke. "Hello, brother."

Krysta gasped and covered her eyes as a pure white light filled the vicinity.

Uncovering her eyes, Krysta looked around to find an unpleasant surprise; she was in a different room. A room that looked like it would fall apart at any second. And she was surrounded by a ring of holy fire. Perfect…

"Krysta?" She wheeled around to see Castiel standing behind her—also in a ring of holly fire and looking just as surprised as she was.

She laughed nervously and tucked a few stray hairs behind her ear. "Uh…Uncle Cas? How the hell did I get in here?" She obviously hadn't walked into the room and _willingly_ stepped through some holy fire, so what the hell?

Castiel tilted his head. "He must have flashed you in himself." Cas turned slowly, his eyes scanning the room. They narrowed as they fell upon a dark shape standing in the corner. "Lucifer."

Krysta gasped and her heart kicked it into high gear. Every part of her was screaming for her to run but she ignored it. A shiver went down her spine as she turned to look at the man who was her father.

Lucifer wasn't what you would expect the devil to look like. He was tall and thin, but had a normal build. He had short blonde hair and a casual demeanor. He held his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he leaned against a wall. It didn't matter how normal he looked like though; he still scared the crap out of Krysta. Lucifer started to circle them slowly, speaking as he walked.

"So, I take it you're here with the Winchesters?" he asked with a smirk.

While her uncle and father spoke, Krysta worked on her poker face. She hadn't come this far just to turn into a puddle of frightened goo on the floor. _'Dammit, Krysta,'_ she chastised herself, _'get a grip! So what if he's the devil? So what if he's your dad? Mom, Paul, Ava, Levi, Marie? They're all dead because of _him_! He wants to start the damn _Apocalypse_! Pull yourself together!'_

Her cocky exterior was back in time for her to hear Lucifer and Castiel discussing "automobiles."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, give me a break," she groaned. "What is it with guys and cars? Seriously…"

Lucifer shifted his attention to Krysta for the first time. "Oh, I almost forgot. Little Krysta: my half _human_ daughter." Krysta sneered at his condescending tone of voice.

Glaring at him, she growled. "Yeah, and you're a grade "A" dick."

Smirking, Krysta cocked an eyebrow up at him and crossed her arms in a casual manner. "What's wrong with your face?" It looked like the skin was peeling away in splotches.

Lucifer chuckled as he looked down at himself. "My vessel, yes, it is wearing a bit thin I'm afraid…can't contain me forever so…" He trailed off with a smirk and snapped his fingers.

Krysta's mouth flew open and found that "daddy dearest" had put her on mute. She had to settle for bunching her hands into fists, down at her sides, and shooting daggers at Lucifer out of her eyes. Castiel, however, marched towards him. "You—" he started, but froze, realizing that he had come fatally close to crossing the fire. He stood just inside the ring as he threatened in a low and serious voice, "You are not taking Sam Winchester. I won't let you."

The devil smiled in amusement, not concerned in the slightest. "Castiel," he drawled lazily, "Krysta, I don't understand why you're fighting _me_, of all the angels.

Castiel was deadpanned. "You really have to ask?" Krysta scoffed in agreement.

"I rebelled, I was cast out. You rebelled, you were cast out." Lucifer turned to his daughter and she narrowed her eyes. "Krysta, you're half angel. That's enough to put you on their list. Almost all of heaven wants me dead, and if they succeed, guess what. You're their new public enemy numbers one and two." He shrugged as he continued circling them. "We're on the same side, like it or not, so why not just serve your own best interests—which, in this case, just happen to me mine."

Her breathing hitched as Krysta realized, as horrible as he was, Lucifer was right about heaven. She was already being hunted. That didn't make joining him any less wrong though. Her eyes hardened as she set her jaw. Her body language was easy to read: _Hell no!_

Cas was, of course, in agreement. "I'll die first." He lifted his chin, showing his loyalty to the boys. Krysta nodded, indicating that he was speaking for the both of them.

Lucifer looked at the two of them and sighed in an almost sad, but accepted, defeat.

"I suppose you will.


	19. Chapter 18 Good Faith

Chapter 18 – Good Faith

Krysta glared at the ring of holy fire. Sure, she could step over it and flash away, but it wouldn't do her much good. Remembering the results of the last time with the Winchesters, she knew she would wind up right back in her fiery cell…or worse. So she paced. While she paced, she tried to think of a plan—_tried _being the operative word.

Castiel stood motionless, his eyes always on Lucifer who was sitting with his back against a brick wall, stroking his chin thoughtfully. The devil's gaze shifted between his prisoners every once in a while, but he didn't speak. Krysta wondered what the hell he was waiting for.

Her unspoken question was answered when a slight woman with wavy, brown hair entered the room. She grinned at Krysta and Castiel before turning to Lucifer. "I've got the Winchesters pinned down, for now at least," she trilled. Krysta immediately stopped pacing and tuned into the conversation. This chick was right, they wouldn't stay pinned down forever. They were Sam and Dean for Christ's sake…right? "What do you want me to do with them?"

Everyone focused on Lucifer. He tapped his chin, pondering this information while examining Krysta and Cas's hard expressions. "Mmm…leave them alone," he stated.

Krysta's eyes narrowed—what was he planning? The brunette balked at him incredulously. "I'm sorry," she stammered, "but are you sure? Shouldn't we—"

"Trust me child," Lucifer interrupted and Krysta's suspicions were confirmed; she was a demon. Krysta suppressed a gag as he went over to the demon and placed his hands on either side of her face—she smiled in content as he stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. "Everything happens for a reason."

Krysta rolled her eyes. _'Ugh, that's not creepy at all…'_

Lucifer then turned to his brother. "Well, Castiel, you have some time," he said, "time to change your mind." Looking at her uncle, Krysta watched him tear his gaze from the ceiling to glare at Lucifer. She wondered absentmindedly when and why he'd been looking there in the first place.

Sighing, the devil turned to her. "Krysta," he cooed, saying her name like a caress. It made her sick. "The same goes to you." She snorted, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms, as if to say "Yeah, right." Lucifer tilted his head slightly, a look of consideration on his face. "You know what?" he asked. "I'm feeling generous today. And, since you _are _my daughter, I'll even give you back your voice. Call it…a gesture of good faith."

He cracked a smile, snapped his fingers, and was gone. Krysta's voice was back, she could feel it, but she wasn't going to give the smug-ass demon the satisfaction of speaking. She looked at her uncle, conversing with him in her mind.

_What now, Uncle Cas? I can get out of this, but you can't. And I'm not gonna be able to kick demonic ass once I'm out…_

_Krysta, go help the Winchesters._

_What?_

_Can you _flash_ out?_

_Well, yeah, probably, but what are you gonna do?_

_I have a plan._

_Yes, because this last one worked out _so _damn well…_

_Trust me._

_Tell me your plan first._

…_The pipe._

_The pipe? …OH! Ohh…okay I see. Good plan. Are you sure?_

Castiel's nodded and gave Krysta a small smile; she _would_ see him again.

Krysta sucked in a deep breath and steeled herself. This had better work because, if it didn't—

"Hey! Demon-bitch!"

The demon turned from the spot Lucifer had vanished from and glared at her. "_What_ was that?" she seethed.

A Dean-worthy smirk settled onto Krysta's face as she answered. "You heard me. I just wanted to say…toodles!" With a wave and a curtsy, she disappeared, leaving the demon behind to cry out in anger and confusion.


	20. Chapter 19 Lolly Pops

Chapter 19 – Lolly-Pops

The night was still as starlight filled the alley. It was quiet, save for the skittering of a few rats and a couple of dogs barking in the distance. However, the stillness was interrupted when Krysta flashed into the scene.

_Flashing_ out of the holy fire seemed to affect her even worse than when she had simply _walked_ out. Her aim and balance were off and, when she landed, she pitched forward and her head collided with the corner of a dumpster. Catching herself on her hands and knees, Krysta felt her head throb and she swore. Raising a hand to her temple, she felt the warm and sticky blood quickly coat her fingers.

"Shit."

Her eyes widened as she tried to re-focus her blurry vision. The throbbing got worse and, as she fell to the ground, everything went black.

_The scenery around her changed. She wasn't kneeling in an alley anymore; she was sitting on a swing. A warm, summer breeze filled the air—it made her hair tickle her nose—and she could feel the heat of the sun beating down on her. As she looked around, Krysta realized she was at a playground. Young children ran around. They were playing tag, climbing on the play equipment, and playing without a care in the world. She smiled as she started to swing._

_There was a flutter of wings and suddenly she wasn't sitting alone. Her companion was a short man with hazel eyes and shaggy, dirty-blonde hair. He wore a green jacket, a dark, button-up shirt, and blue jeans. He smiled at her playfully as he stuck a purple lolly-pop into his mouth._

"_Hey, kiddo," he laughed._

_It took Krysta a moment to recognize the man. She was sure she hadn't ever seen him before, but, somehow, she felt like she'd known him all her life._

"…_Uncle Gabe?" she asked with wide-eyes. "But-but you _died_!" She wondered absentmindedly how she knew that, but disregarded it._

_He cocked an eyebrow up at her before his smile grew even larger. "You would think so, wouldn't you? Never mind, that's not important." Gabriel looked at her seriously before removing the candy from his mouth and continuing. "Look, the dick and the moose are on their way here, so I don't have much time."_

_Krysta held up her hands to stop him. "Wait, what? You mean Dean and Sam? Why are they coming _here_? They have to—oh." The archangel nodded as a look of understanding passed over Krysta's face. "This is a dream, isn't it? I—" she struggled to remember, "I…passed out…right?"_

_Gabriel nodded. "This is the only way we could talk without being heard. So, listen up and listen good." He sucked in a deep breath and pointed the lolly-pop at her. "Lucy was right. _You _are very important. But not in the way he thinks. You're important to _Dean and Sam_. You're gonna have to help them out tonight, they need you."_

"_Well that's kind of why I'm here, Uncle Gabe." Krysta gave Gabriel her version of the "bitch-face" and the archangel whistled. The kid was good._

_His hands flew up in a placating gesture. "Believe me, Krysta, I'm not arguing with you." _

"_Then why?" she wondered._

_Gabriel looked skyward, as if someone was talking to him. "Look," he said, "they're coming. I don't have much time before the chuckle-brothers wake you up so I have to tell you this _now_. There's something you're going to have to do after tonight."_

_Krysta's eyes grew and began to water as she listened to the angel's whispered instructions._

"Oh my God!"

Krysta could hear the faint sound of footsteps running towards her. She couldn't open her eyes though, she couldn't move. Unconsciousness was still trying to pull her back under.

"Krysta…Krysta!"

The voice was so familiar but, she couldn't figure out who was talking. There was a slight pressure on her neck.

"She's got a pulse. Dammit, kid, wake up!"

There was the second voice. Again, it was so familiar. Why couldn't she make it out?

"She's lost a lot of blood," said the first voice. It trembled in worry. "What it…what if she doesn't wake up, Dean?"

Dean…Dean and…Sam! Dean and Sam! They were here! Krysta struggled against the darkness and her eyes flew open as she gasped.

"Dean! Sam!" she panted before pulling the two of them into a hug. "You guys have _no idea _how good it is to see you!"

The two brothers chuckled awkwardly and shared a "crap-I-think-she's-finally-lost-it" look. The Krysta they knew wasn't exactly the hugging type. Sam scratched his chin. "Uh…you feeling okay, Krysta?"

Krysta's laugh was slightly hysterical. "Well, considering I was just unconscious and I've got a _bitch _of a headache, I'll survive."

"Great," snarled Dean, "now could you tell us just where the _hell you've been_?" He threw his hands into the air angrily as he stood up. "We come back to find out that you and Cas just ran off to follow some _reapers_?"

Krysta frowned as he yelled at her; he just _had _to ruin the moment. "Oh, I'm _so sorry_!" she growled. "I was a bit busy being _trapped _with Casby freaking _Lucifer_!" The brothers looked at her in shock. She held up a finger before they spoke. "And, before you ask, no, I didn't kill him. He left before I got a chance. Cas is still there with some demon-chick but he told me to come find you."

Krysta's frustration ended abruptly as she looked around. "Wait," she said, "where're Jo and Ellen?"

She saw the heartbroken expressions that Sam and Dean suddenly had. That was when she saw a bright orange glow in the distance—that, and _lots _of thick, black smoke spiraling upwards. _'Oh…shit…'_

"Sam, Dean, I… I'm sorry…I should've…I didn't…I—"

Dean stopped her. "You didn't know," he stated softly. "Look, let's just go gank this evil son of a bitch and end this." Sam and Krysta nodded in agreement.

As the three of them ran, Krysta thought about the instructions Gabriel had given her right before she woke up.

And it broke her heart.


	21. Chapter 20 Killing The Devil

Chapter 20 – Killing The Devil

The trio crept silently through the tree line, keeping hidden. As they looked into the clearing, Krysta gasped softly. "What the hell?" she asked, her voice hushed.

Lucifer stood on top of a small hill, using a shovel to dig, although they didn't know what exactly he was digging _for_. Standing around him, and a small bonfire, was a large group of men. Krysta thought they looked strangely familiar…

"Well, I guess we know what happened to some of the townspeople," murmured Dean. Krysta's mouth formed a small "o" as she recognized them from the "missing persons" posters.

"Okay," said Sam, his voice shaking.

"Okay," Dean repeated quickly.

"Oh God," croaked Krysta. She was nervous as hell, but she was trying hard not to show it. What if this didn't work? She didn't want to think about that. For now, Krysta decided to focus on being the smart-ass with a "bring it on" attitude she normally was.

Sam looked at his two companions briefly before whispering, "Last words?"

Stifling a quiet laugh, Krysta looked up at Sam humorously. "Thank you, Mr. Pessimistic, but I think I'll pass. Dean?" She turned to him, a sly grin on her face.

Matching her smile, Dean gave his brother a sideways glance. "I'm good."

"Yeah, me too," Sam agreed quickly, Krysta rolling her eyes in response to his attempted nonchalance.

Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam before brushing it off. "Here goes nothing," he stated before himself and Krysta started walking in opposite directions—each moving to where they would wait.

From where she hid, behind a large oak tree, Krysta could see Sam march into the clearing towards the devil, anger and determination written all over his face.

"Hey!" he shouted as he made his way through the mass of men. He cocked his shotgun. "You wanted to see me?" he growled.

Lucifer placed his shovel down and brushed the dirt off his hands as he sauntered over to his vessel. "Oh, Sam, you don't need that gun here," he said, pointing to it and smiling. "You know I'd never hurt you. Not _really_."

A grin crept onto Krysta's face. Lucifer's attention was all on Sam, just like they'd planned. He hadn't noticed as Dean snuck up to him and pointed the barrel of the Colt at his temple.

"Yeah?" Dean asked bringing the devil's attention to him. The smile on Lucifer's face immediately fell and he turned to face him. "Well, _I'd_ hurt _you_," Dean stated angrily, "so suck it!" He fired the Colt and the devil fell to his side on the ground, a giant hole gaping right in the middle of his forehead.

The Winchesters and Krysta stared at his body for a moment before turning to each other. They smiled and let out short, breathless laughs.

'_I can't believe that actually worked…' _Krysta marveled.

Suddenly, the fallen angel gasped and his eyes flew open. He rolled over onto his back and groaned. "Ow…"

'_Or not…' _Krysta cursed internally. _'Dammit, dammit, _dammit_! Why couldn't _one _freaking thing go _their_ way today?'_

Lucifer grimaced as he stood up. He pointed to the Colt accusingly. "Where did you get that?" he asked, his voice almost a whine.

Without waiting for a reply, Lucifer back-handed Dean against a tree several yards away. He fell to the ground and didn't move.

It took all of Krysta's willpower to restrain herself from running out into the clearing—whether to help Dean or confront her father, she wasn't sure. But a small part of her knew she couldn't go, not yet.

Lucifer turned back towards Sam—who gasped as the gaping hole in the devil's head healed itself—and smiled slightly. "Now," he said, "where were we?"

"Don't feel too bad Sam." Lucifer sounded like he was trying to console him, but the condescending smile on his face said otherwise. "There're only five things in all of creation that that gun can't kill and I just happen to be one of them." He shrugged as if to say "what can you do."

Krysta shook her head from where she hid. _'Dick.'_

Sam shook where he stood, fighting the urge to run to his brother while the devil spoke to him. Lucifer held up his index finger. "But if you give me a minute, I'm almost done." Then he returned to his digging.

Once Lucifer's back was turned, Sam sprinted over to his brother. He sent a quick nod Krysta's way, indicating that Dean was alright, just unconscious. Krysta sighed in relief.

"You know," Lucifer rested his hands on the end of his shovel and squinted at Sam, "I don't suppose you'd just say 'yes,' right here and now…end this whole tiresome discussion." The devil shook his head and chuckled. "That's crazy, right?"

'_That cocky, arrogant, son of a bitch!' _If she didn't have to be unnoticed, Krysta would have been cursing a blue streak. She wanted to run over there and—

'_Not yet, not yet, not yet,' _she chastised herself.

Sam stood up, his jaw clenched. "It's _never _going to happen," he roared.

Seemingly mulling this over, Lucifer returned to his digging. "Oh, I don't know, Sam," he grunted, "I think it will."

Krysta balled her hands into fists. _'Not yet.'_

"I think it will happen soon…"

She clenched her teeth. _'Stay here,'_

"…within six months…"

'_Dammit, Krysta, be _smart_ about this.'_ Her knuckles were turning white and her palms started to sting from where her fingernails dug into them.

Lucifer stopped digging and turned to Sam, smiling. "And I think it will happen in Detroit."

Sam looked like he was fighting back tears. "Now, you listen to me you son of a bitch," he growled, "I'm going to_ kill _you _myself_, do you understand me?" Lucifer returned to his shovel, a grin still plastered on his face. "I'm going to _rip _your _heart _out!"

"That's good, Sam," the devil murmured. "You keep fanning that fire in your belly. All that pent up rage? I'm going to need it."

Sam tried to calm himself down. He looked around at all the other men standing in the clearing. Krysta realized that not one of them had moved since they'd arrived. "What did you do?" Sam asked. "What did you do to this town?"

"Oh," said Lucifer nonchalantly, "I was very generous to this town—one demon for every able-bodied man."

Demons? They were all _demons_?

'_Stay calm, be smart, stay calm, be smart…'_ If Sam could restrain his anger, why couldn't she?

"And the rest of them?" Sam asked the question with a "kicked-puppy" expression. Krysta was afraid to know the answer.

Once again, the digging stopped. Lucifer chuckled before he answered. "In there," he said, pointing to the piles of dirt.

Sam's jaw flew open and Krysta's blood ran cold. He hadn't been digging—he was filling in a hole.

'_Oh.'_

'_Oh God.'_

'_No!'_

Krysta felt like she was going to be sick. All of those people!

The devil shrugged as he continued. "I know, it's awful, but these horsemen are so _demanding_. So, it was women and children first!"

She couldn't stand it anymore. All attention was on her as she stomped into the clearing, screaming in rage.

"You _bastard_!"


	22. Chapter 21 Like Father, Like Daughter

Chapter 21 – Like Father, Like Daughter

Krysta stopped and stood her ground a few feet away from Lucifer. The string of curses coming from her seemed to never end. However, only parts of her screaming were understood—as she got angrier, her voice got louder and higher pitched. Her words slurred together with her speed, making it difficult to understand most of what she was saying. But the parts that _were _heard, Sam thought were…colorful, to say the least.

"…should go straight back to _Hell _you pig-faced….lying, cheating, selfish, _bastard_! That was an _entire town _that you carelessly _murdered _you…..! If I….…and shove it….so far up your ass you'll be…..and coughing up jerky for _weeks _you arrogant, douche bag…..son of a _bitch_!" Her rant ended with a wordless, almost animalistic, shriek.

Sam stared at Krysta slack-jawed, wide-eyed, and _extremely_ glad she wasn't angry with _him_.

Although Krysta was all but physically biting his head off, Lucifer didn't bat an eye. He simply shook his head and tutted. "Now Krysta is that any way to speak to your father?" he smirked.

One look at Krysta's menacing expression and Sam took a few steps backwards. _'Oh shit,' _he thought, _'now he's done it.'_

"My father? My _father_?" Krysta laughed bitterly and humorously. "My _father _was there for me when I needed him! My _father _made sure there weren't monsters in my closet! _My father _took me to my first _baseball _game!" Angry tears stung in her eyes but she refused to let them fall. "My father was _killed_ by one of _your demons _when I was ten, you piece of _shit_! You never have been, and you never _will _be my father!" She glared daggers at Lucifer and blew some stray hairs out of her face in frustration. "The only thing _you've _done in my life is kill everyone I loved and impregnate my mom through…through…_angel rape_! Now, _Lucifer_," she spat his name, "tell me, what kind of _father _does that?"

Krysta crossed her arms and took a few steps forward, decreasing the gap between her and the fallen angel. Lucifer tilted his head sympathetically and rested his arms on his shovel.

"I know what you must think of me Krysta, Sam," he looked at the two in turn before continuing, "but I _have _to do this. I have to." He gestured to the large grave as he said this. "You of all people should understand."

Raising an eyebrow and scoffing, Krysta glared at him expectantly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Sam in disgust.

Throwing down the shovel, Lucifer walked towards him. "I was a son, a brother like you, a younger brother, and I had an older brother who I loved, _idolized _in fact. And one day I went to him, and I _begged _him to stand with me, and Michael," he huffed bitterly and clenched his jaw, "Michael turned on me, called me a _freak_, a _monster_, and then he beat me down. All because I was _different_—because I had a mind of my own. Tell me something, Sam—any of this sound familiar?"

Before Sam had a chance to reply, Lucifer turned and started to walk towards Krysta. "And you, Krysta. You shouldn't doubt for _one second_ that you're my daughter. After all, like father, like daughter," he chuckled.

Krysta gritted her teeth but stood her ground as the devil walked even closer to her. Her eyes narrowed in response to his claims. "Oh really? How so?"

"Well let's see, your _biological _father tells you something, you don't like it, you rebel…hmm, that sounds familiar…" Placing a hand on her shoulder, Lucifer gave Krysta a small, sad smile. "We really aren't that different. Look, kiddo—"

Cutting him off, Krysta formed a plan that would most definitely, probably work. She was about forty percent sure it would…maybe. "You know what?" she snarled. "You can cut that sympathy-for-the devil _shit_! I'm so _sick_ of it!" Though the odds were stacked up against her, she knew she had to try. It would at least slow him down…she hoped. "You're a sick, twisted, son of a bitch and you can go straight back to Hell!"

Then, Krysta threw her hands roughly against Lucifer's forehead and concentrated all of her powers.

If it worked on demons, why not him?

Krysta amped up her demon-killing powers as high as she possible could, in an attempt to kill, or at least weaken, Lucifer. A small light had started to burn under her palms, but the amount of energy she was exerting was too much. She felt almost instantly drained of her powers as a small trail of blood trickled from her nose.

It hadn't done any good.

Lucifer sneered at her and grabbed her wrists in one hand, yanking them away from his head and pulling her closer. "That tickled," he mocked. "Did you really think that you—_you_, a little _half_-angel, stood any chance of _smiting _me?" Lucifer laughed and threw Krysta to the ground. She landed painfully on her back, knocking the wind out of her.

"Was worth a shot," she choked out, somehow still maintaining a smirk.

Lucifer pointed at her and spoke to Sam. "You see that?" he asked. "That right there is what I'm tired of. That _attitude_. Now, I'm done playing nice."

Reaching into his jacket, Lucifer pulled out his angel blade. Then, quick as ever, he spun around and pierced Krysta's heart with it. Krysta cried out in pain—pain that was both indescribably any unimaginable. It was more than she could bear.

"_No_!" shouted Sam, but he couldn't leave an unconscious Dean unprotected. He was forced to watch as Lucifer swiftly pulled the blade out of her body, wiped her blood off onto his jeans, and put it back inside of his jacket.

Lucifer stared curiously as Krysta gazed up at him, her eyes wide as she tried desperately to breath, but choked on her own blood. Then, a dull, white light shot out of her eyes and mouth as she screamed in agony. When the light subsided, Krysta laid still on the ground, dead—her eyes still open in shock. On either side of her were ash-prints of her wings. Smaller than an angel's, yet still as perfect, they were the most beautifully haunting things Sam had ever seen.

"I should have done _that_ a long time ago," murmured Lucifer. He shrugged at Sam and turned back to his work. "Anyways, you'll have to excuse me. Midnight is calling and I have a ritual to finish. Don't go anywhere," he pointed to Sam and smiled, "not that you could if you would…"

The devil then held up his hands and turned his face to the night sky. "Tora zodoo zoda mona," he chanted as Sam checked on his older brother, a pained expression on his face. Hadn't they already lost enough?

Turning to his demons, Lucifer clasped his hands together. "Now, repeat after me," he ordered. "We offer up our lives, blood, souls…"

As the mass parroted him, Dean woke up. He sat up carefully, and painfully, against the base of the tree and stared at the scene before him.

"…to complete this tribute."

Again, the demons repeated the line. Sam looked at his brother worriedly and Dean noticed Krysta; his stomach fell. They should have protected her…

One by one, the demons dropped to the ground, each of them dying to serve Lucifer's cause. Seeing the shocked expressions on the hunters' faces, Lucifer shrugged.

"What?" he asked in contempt. "They're just demons."

Lucifer rolled his eyes before the ground shook, the ritual almost finished.

Sam and Dean's panicked expressions turned to relief as Castiel appeared in front of them. His eyes were sad—he had seen his niece's body—but he held a finger to his lips, a reminder for the boys to stay quiet.

Castiel, Sam, and Dean flashed away just before the horsemen were released. Lucifer looked up and smiled.

"Oh, hello, Death."


	23. Chapter 22 Hold On

Chapter 22 – Hold On

Castiel and the Winchesters touched down a few blocks away, next to the Impala which was parked outside an abandoned post office.

"Get in," ordered Dean, though he sounded quieter than before, "we're going to Bobby's and getting the hell outta Dodge." He took a step towards his car before stumbling. Catching himself on his hands, he felt the dizziness take over.

Sam ran over and knelt down next to his brother. "Dean. Dean! Are you okay?" he asked worriedly.

"I'm fine, Sammy," Dean slurred, waving him off. Shit, why couldn't he concentrate?

Knowing his brother was lying; Sam's hands flew to Dean's back, poking and prodding for any sign of injury. When he reached his right shoulder blade, Sam's expression became pained as his hands came away red and sticky. "Dammit, Dean," he muttered.

Castiel walked over to the brothers and knelt down alongside Sam. "Dean's strength is fading from extensive blood loss," he murmured. "At this rate, he will not make it to Bobby's."

Clutching onto Dean—who was now too weak to hold himself upright—Sam glared at the angel. "So _fix him_, dammit! Use your angel mojo so we can get out of here!" He knew that there were probably demons looking for them; time wasn't exactly on their side.

Cas' eyes were pleading, offsetting his stern tone. "Sam, I want to help you. I want to help Dean—_believe _me, I do. But I can_not _do it _here_." Sam tried to protest but was abruptly cut off. "Listen to me. If I heal him, our location will be revealed. The demons, not to mention _Lucifer_, are able to detect when an angel uses their powers nearby."

It took all of Sam's effort not to shout. "So what do we do then?" he growled through gritted teeth. Dean had shut his eyes and his breathing was now harsh and ragged. He needed help. _Soon_.

"Get him in the car," commanded Castiel.

Together, the two placed Dean in the back seat of the Impala as carefully as they could. Sam could see that he was trying to hide it, but Dean still hissed in pain every time he was jostled the wrong way.

A lump had formed in Sam's throat, but he couldn't swallow it. "Now what?"

"Drive. I will heal him when we are far enough from this town."

Castiel sat down in the passenger seat and Sam got behind the wheel and took off, a small part of him thankful that the town was deserted—they were going to break a few road laws. He swore as Dean started to cough up blood. "Dammit, Dean," he growled, "you'd better hold on. We've already lost mom, Jess, dad, Ash, Jo, Ellen, and now _Krysta_. I am _not _going to lose you too!" He pushed the car even faster.

About half an hour later, Sam pulled into the parking lot of Sandra's Place, a motel Castiel had deemed "safe" enough. Just in time, too. Dean was on the very verge of death…_again_.

Castiel placed two fingers on Dean's forehead and Sam breathed a sigh of relief; his brother's breathing was back to normal. Dean's eyelids fluttered open and he sat up. Touching his shoulder, he smiled finding it whole again.

"Thanks, Cas," the brothers said in unison.

The angel nodded. "Dean, you will need to rest for a few hours before any extensive trips. I'm afraid that, when I helped you escape, it made it harder for your body to repair." Castiel exited the car, followed by the boys, and spoke firmly. "I will alert Bobby that you will come in the morning." The angel flashed out, leaving Sam and Dean staring after him.

Luckily, Dean didn't feel up to protesting at the moment—saving them from an extensive argument, a bitchfacing Sam, Dean setting his jaw and declaring he was find, some hard-to-refuse puppy-dog eyes, and Dean's eventual caving in—so they simply checked into the motel.

The Winchesters entered room 202 and reached for the light switch. They froze as they were greeted by a voice.

"Hey, boys. What took you so long?"


	24. Chapter 23 Sorry

Chapter 23 - Sorry

Sam flicked on the light in the motel room. It revealed…pink. A _lot _of pink. And laciness. It was like a pink, lacy, life-sized Barbie room…only _pinker_, however the hell _that _was possible. The lights revealed something else too.

"_Krysta_?" Sam and Dean cried out at the same time.

She stood on the far side of the room, hugging herself. Her hair was slightly messy, curling up a bit at the ends, and she was covered in bruises and scratches. She was still in the same gear she was killed in. There was a large rip in the fabric where she was stabbed, surrounded by dried blood, but the skin underneath looked smooth and healed. Her eyes were red and puffy, like she'd been crying.

Krysta gave them both a small smile. "Hey, guys," she murmured. "You have no clue how good it is to see you both!" Crossing the room in large strides, Krysta hugged both Dean and Sam tightly, wishing she didn't have to let go.

When she did, Sam held her shoulders at arm's length, wary, to say the least. "Prove it," he choked out—he didn't want to believe it was her without knowing for sure. "Prove you're you."

Chuckling softly, Krysta grabbed a container of salt and a bottle of holy water from her bag, which was resting at the foot of one of the beds. "Figures," she muttered. Then she mixed the salt in the holy water and took a swig, grimacing at the taste. Afterwards, she used a small, silver dagger to make a shallow cut on her forearm, proving that it didn't burn.

Seeing that she was, well, _her_, Sam wrapped his arms around her. "It's good to see you."

Dean ruffled her hair—resulting in a bit of grumbling from Krysta—and grinned. "Yeah, kid, it is," he stated before rubbing his chin uncomfortably. "Look, no offense or anything, but…you were dead…"

Krysta finished smoothing down her hair and scoffed. "Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. I was there." She rubbed the area where she'd been stabbed—right where her heart was—at the slight, uncomfortable, burning sensation she still felt. "It hurt like hell too."

"Well then, how—"

Holding up her index finger to stop him, Krysta sighed. "Honestly? I don't know." She shrugged. "Big guy upstairs giving me second chance? A fluke? Unfinished business…" she trailed off as an afterthought.

Sam scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion. "Wait, unfinished business?" he asked. "What unfinished business?"

He watched Krysta curiously as she ran her fingers nervously through her hair. "Tears sprung up in her eyes as she spoke. "Guys, I'm sorry. I need you to know that. I already went and saw Bobby…he needed to know too." Her eyes pleaded with them, praying that they would understand. "I'm sorry that Jo and Ellen died because of me. I'm sorry that my dad's still alive. I'm sorry that Dean got hurt." She took in a shaky breath, trying to calm herself down. "I am truly, _truly_, sorry."

Her voice dropped into a whisper as she spoke to the floor. "Most of all, I'm sorry for this." Quickly, she placed two fingers on each of the Winchester boys' foreheads and they dropped to the ground.

"Guys," she spoke to their sleeping forms, "I wish I could tell you all this while you're awake, in person, you know? But you would just stop me…" Sighing, she sat on the floor between the two of them. "Just understand something; this needs to happen. I _have _to do this. God, I _wish_ I didn't," she choked back a sob and held in the tears as she pressed a palm to each of their foreheads, shut her eyes, and concentrated.

"I'm sorry."


	25. Chapter 24 Susie Allens

Chapter 24 – Susie Allens

Krysta walked out of the motel room wiping the tears from her eyes. She didn't notice Castiel standing in front of her until she bumped into him. She looked up to see his hard and angry eyes.

"You should not have done that," he chastised, his voice low and stern. "What were you _thinking_?"

Krysta gave the angel an incredulous look. "Do you really think I _wanted _to?" She shook her head angrily and walked past him. "I _had _to."

She tried to ignore the fact that Castiel was following closely behind her. "Please, elaborate."

"You wouldn't understand." Krysta could hardly believe that her uncle _still _didn't trust her. It had her fuming.

She started when Castiel suddenly appeared in front of her, blocking her path. He crossed his arms and glared at her. "Explain. _Now_."

"Leave me _alone_," she growled, moving around him once again. She needed time to plan her next move, not to dwell on things that, not only hurt too much to think about, but couldn't be undone.

"Krysta," Castiel warned.

Throwing her hands into the air in exasperation, she spun on her heel to face him. "_Fine_!" she exploded. "You want to know so badly? Okay! It was Gabriel. _Gabriel_ told me to do it. Happy now?"

Castiel blinked in shock. Gabriel? "Gabriel is dead."

"Yeah, thanks, I know." Krysta huffed. "He showed up in my head after I passed out. Go ahead and check it out if you want," she muttered impatiently.

Cas searched through her memories, his eyes growing wide as he heard the instructions his brother left Krysta. After what seemed like a lifetime, his expression softened. "Krysta—"

"Forget it, Uncle Cas." She waved off his apology and gave him a small smile. "I'm leaving town, anyways." Twisting a strand of her hair around her finger, trying to keep her eyes off of her uncle, she blurted out, "Can you do something for me?" Not bothering to wait for an answer, Krysta continued. "Don't tell Dean and Sam. Just keep this our secret. Please? It's just…it'll make things easier…for me especially. Can you do that for me, Cas?" she pleaded.

As Castiel opened his mouth, the door to room 202 flew open.

"Cas!" hollered Dean as he and Sam left the motel room and walked briskly over to them. "Come on, Cas! We gotta go. Bobby's waiting!"

It broke Krysta's heart when the boys looked at her questioningly and asked, "Who're you?"

Krysta quickly plastered on her poker face, fell into her damsel-in-distress act, and gave them a small smile. "Susie. Susie Allens," she answered shyly, biting her lip. It was too easy to slip back into her old patterns.

Thankfully, Cas went along with her. "I…rescued her from some demons," he lied, nodding slightly in response when Krysta mouthed "thank you."

Always hating to be rude, Sam grimaced. "Uh, look, it's really nice to meet you Susie, but, uh…we have to get going…see—"

"Don't worry," Krysta chuckled. "I was just leaving anyways."

Sam smiled in thanks and got into the passenger side of the Impala; Castiel had already seated himself in the back. After Dean sat down in the driver's seat and started the ignition, Krysta bent down to look at him through the window. "Thanks…for everything," she said sincerely.

Dean cocked an eyebrow up. "What did _we _do?" When all he got was a shrug and a smirk, he drove off. "Okay then…" he muttered.

Dean's eyes flickered to the rear-view mirror and, for a moment, he could have sworn he saw Susie Allens disappear into thin air…

_He sucked in a deep breath and pointed the lolly-pop at her. "Lucy was right. _You _are very important. But not in the way he thinks. You're important to _Dean and Sam_. You're gonna have to help them out tonight, they need you."_

"_Well that's kind of why I'm here, Uncle Gabe." Krysta gave Gabriel her version of the "bitch-face" and the archangel whistled. The kid was good._

_His hands flew up in a placating gesture. "Believe me, Krysta, I'm not arguing with you." _

"_Then why?" she wondered._

_Gabriel looked skyward, as if someone was talking to him. "Look," he said, "they're coming. I don't have much time before the chuckle-brothers wake you up so I have to tell you this _now_. There's something you're going to have to do after tonight." He sucked in a deep breath. "Krysta, they can't remember you." Gabriel's voice was soft but firm. _

_She raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean? Of course they can—"_

"_No, you're not getting it." The archangel sighed. "I mean, after tonight, they are not _allowed _to remember you."_

_It took a moment for this information to sink in. When it did, Krysta was shocked to say the least. "What?"_

_Gabriel's eyes were full of pity as he explained everything to his niece. "Look, kiddo, you weren't supposed to meet them. Ever. If they remember who you are, they'll keep you on their team."_

"_But, I don't get it," she stammered. "That's a good thing, isn't it?"_

_Shaking his head, Gabriel stuck the lolly-pop back into his mouth and spoke around it. "It might seem like it now, but if you stay with them, everything's gonna go sour. Well," he drew out the word, "more sour than it would without you." Gabriel could see the hurt in Krysta's face and backtracked quickly. "It wouldn't be your fault, kiddo, I swear. It's just how things are gonna happen. I know it's hard kid but—" _

_Krysta laughed bitterly. "Hard? Hell _yes _it's hard! Every time—_every time_—I trust someone, hell, start to like them even, think of them as a friend, as a big _brother_, I have to lose them! Why? It's not fair!"_

_There was a pause before she spoke back up. "Uncle Gabe, how bad will it be if I stay with them?" Krysta asked quietly as her eyes started to water._

_Gabriel couldn't look at her when he answered. He hated having to spread news like this. Keeping his eyes on a bird that was flying overhead, his answer was hardly a whisper. "End-of-the-world bad."_

_Krysta clenched her fists and bit the inside of her cheeks, but she couldn't hold back her tears._

"_What do I have to do?"_

"_You're going to have to edit their memories. Just put a hand on each of their foreheads and concentrate on what you want gone. You don't want to kill them, and you don't want them to forget everything that happened, so just focus on taking yourself out of the memories. You'll have to do Bobby's too." Gabriel wrapped Krysta up in a hug and stroked her hair. "I'm really sorry, Krysta."_

_She crumpled in his embrace, her tears soaking his shirt. "Not as sorry as me."_


	26. Chapter 25 Hell Of A Week

Chapter 25 – Hell of a Week

As the Impala drove farther and farther away from her, Krysta kneaded her fists into her eyes. "Stop crying, dammit," she muttered to herself. Loss wasn't exactly a new concept to her. She needed to focus.

Krysta started to wonder where she should go next when she felt her pocket buzz. Pulling out her phone, she groaned at the message on the screen.

_What the hell is going on? – C_

He had the _worst _timing…ever. Irritably, Krysta punched in a reply.

_Leave me alone. I'm so NOT in the mood. – K_

Not even a minute later, he texted back.

…_What happened? – C_

Krysta chewed on her bottom lip. Should she tell him? _'Maybe it would get him off your back,' _a little voice in her head said. That considered she gave him the smallest amount of information she possibly could.

_They're leaving, okay? Now stop texting me. – K_

She debated turning her phone off. Then he would _have_ to leave her alone…probably. As she placed her finger on the power button, Krysta felt her phone vibrate one more time.

_Rendezvous at my place. We need to talk. – C_

"Dammit," she growled. Why couldn't he let this go? _'He's not gonna give up…might as well just get it over with…'_ the voice reasoned. Krysta sighed; she hated when she was right. Bracing herself to be bombarded with questions, she flashed away.

Upon landing, Krysta had to fight the strong urge to leave. Ignoring her second thoughts, she looked around; the place hadn't changed a bit since she'd last been there. "Honestly," she muttered under her breath, "doesn't he _ever _clean?"

"Hello?" Krysta called out, deciding to make her presence known. "You here?"

"Krysta?" She spun around to see a small, scruffy-looking man come around the corner. He seemed shocked to see her. "You're…wow, I mean…that was…fast…" He stumbled over his words as he walked towards her. Feeling flustered, he rubbed the back of his neck.

Krysta gave him her best bitch-face—to which he flinched back from—and crossed her arms. "Why do you keep texting me?" she asked in exasperation. "What do you want, _Chuck_?"

The prophet looked at Krysta with a sheepish expression. He toed the ground nervously as he spoke. "Look, I'm sorry for snapping at you…it's just that…well it can be really frustrating being a prophet and not even being able to see half of what's going to happen!" He frowned, mostly at himself, as he rushed through his explanation. Chuck sighed and ran his hand through his hair before clearing his throat tentatively. "Um, what _did _happen anyway?" he asked.

Krysta shook her head and grimaced. "Nothing worked. Lucifer's still up and kicking, Jo and Ellen are dead because of me, and Sam and Dean are gone. I had to edit myself out of their memories." She found it harder than usual to keep up her strong façade.

Chuck stared at her in bewilderment. "What? Why?"

She groaned and headed towards his small kitchen. "Long story." After searching through his cupboards, Krysta smiled and pulled out a bottle of Tequila. "Bingo!"

As she poured herself some, Chuck tried to take the alcohol away from her. "Umm," he frowned, "you aren't old enough for that."

Krysta smirked and held the bottle out of his reach. "I am in Canada," she gloated before winking and downing the shot, grimacing as the alcohol burned her throat.

Grinning victoriously, she placed the Tequila on the counter, walked back into the living area and flopped down on the couch. "Besides, it's been a _hell_ of a week."

"Teenagers," Chuck scoffed before he rolled his eyes and joined her.

"Oh," Krysta sat up and looked at the prophet seriously, "by the way, I think that's why you couldn't see what was gonna happen."

Chuck scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion. "What is?" he asked.

"Me screwing with their memories." She spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Maybe, because I did that, your spidey-senses got thrown off."

The prophet stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Huh, maybe…"

Resting her head on the back of the couch and squeezing her eyes shut, Krysta sighed. "I'm gonna miss them."

"You're a tough kid, Krysta, you'll be okay," Chuck smiled sympathetically. He chuckled when she murmured "…not a kid…"

After a moment, Krysta groaned and lifted her head. Blinking, she looked around the room. "Uh, Chuck?"

Her nervous tone worried him. "Yeah?" he asked, bracing himself for whatever bad news she was about to deliver.

"Becky's not here, right?"

Chuck let out a loud laugh, startling Krysta. "No, she's not," he chortled.

The relief in Krysta's face was plain as day. "Good. She's my aunt and I love the woman and all but…she's kinda nuts." Turning towards Chuck, she smiled evilly. "Good luck with her. You're gonna need it!" she chuckled.

"Gee, _thanks_," Chuck snorted as he ruffled her hair. "I'll keep that in mind."


	27. Epilogue Canada

Epilogue - Canada

Gabriel was in Canada.

_He _was in Canada.

Gabriel, aka the Trickster, aka Loki, was in _Canada_.

Nope, it didn't matter how many different times and ways he thought or said it, it still sounded weird.

Not that Gabriel had anything _against _Canada—maple syrup and beavers, what's not to love?—he just found it odd that, in all his millenniums, he'd never actually _been_ to the great, white North. And now he found himself wandering around the streets of a small town called…Leamington.

'_Leamington?' _he thought, scoffing. _'It's the most southern point in all of Canada, the tomato_ capital, _and it's the town that freaking _Heinz _is in…and it's called "Leamington." Seriously, who names these places?"_

Creating a chocolate bar for himself out of thin air, Gabriel tried to remember why he'd come to Canada in the first place. Unwrapping the chocolate, he remembered; his guilty conscience.

_He_ made everyone think he was dead.

_He_ left in the middle of a war.

_He_ told Krysta to make Tweedle-Dumb and Tweedle-Dean forget her.

_He _made Krysta leave the only people she cared about that were still alive.

_He _had _lied_ to her.

Gabriel found himself unable to eat the chocolate. Frowning, he threw it into a nearby garbage can.

Looking up, the angel found himself laughing as he realized where he was. Gabriel was outside of a small church called St. Michael's. "Figures," he muttered, rolling his eyes.

The irony was simply delicious. Here was Gabriel, messenger of God, hiding from his family at a church named after his big brother—one of the two who were intent on starting the apocalypse. _And_ he was in Canada. He shook his head, it still sounded strange.

'_What the hell,'_ he thought, shrugging. Gabriel walked up the steps and through the front doors, determined to at least _try _to relieve his guilt. Or, at least, distract himself from it.

As the doors shut behind him, Gabriel looked around. Besides him, there was only one other person in the church. A young girl—probably about thirteen-years-old—with shoulder-length brown hair sat in a pew at the back of the room. Her hazel eyes flickered nervously to the doorway where he stood. They quickly filled with relief and she turned back around to continue writing something in a notebook. Curiosity quickly took over Gabriel's mind and he walked over to her.

Sitting next to the girl, he smiled. "Hi, kid," he said, "how's it going?"

His smile fell slightly when she ignored him. "Um, whatcha doing?" he tried again.

"I shouldn't talk to you," the girl responded, not even bothering to look up from her handy-work. "You know, 'stranger-danger' and all that." He could practically hear the smirk in her voice.

Gabriel's eyes twinkled with delight. Finally, something to take his mind off of the mess he'd made. "Aww darn, and here I was going to offer you some candy and a puppy from my van," he joked.

"Ooh, candy!" The girl laughed and finally looked up at him. Smiling, she held out her hand. "I'm Emily," she said.

He took her hand in his and shook it. "Gabe," he grinned. "There, now we're not strangers anymore."

"You got that from Forrest Gump," Emily giggled, rolling her eyes.

'_I like her,' _Gabriel thought to himself. "So, what are you writing?" he asked, looking down at her loopy hand-writing.

Color flooded her cheeks as she responded. "It's a fanfiction about this show I like. It's sort of a hobby of mine." She seemed worried that he would make fun of her.

But Gabriel's smile widened. The creativity humans had never ceased to amaze him. "That's really cool," he praised, "but, why are you doing it in a church?" He noticed her eyes flicker to the door as she chewed on her bottom lip nervously. Realization hit him like a brick to the face. "Oh. You're hiding out."

"It's nothing," she quickly brushed it off. "Just some girls from school."

It wasn't 'nothing,' Gabriel could see it in her face. He decided not to push the subject, but he knew that a few girls were going to wake up with their pillows filled with spiders in the morning…

Emily's voice pulled him from his train of thought. "What about you?" she asked curiously. "What are you doing in here? There's no church today; it's Tuesday."

When he remained silent, Emily sighed loudly. "Come _on_," she complained. "That's not fair. I told _you_."

Her bitchface made Gabriel snort—she was good, but she had nothing on Sam and Krysta. "Okay, _fine_," he chuckled, "I guess I'm hiding out too. I…I did a bad thing."

Emily closed her notepad and looked at the angel thoughtfully. "'I-ate-the-last-cookie' bad or 'I-just-murdered-seventeen-people-and-you're-next' bad?" she asked.

Gabriel laughed and considered explaining.

'_Why not,'_ he thought. It's not like he was going to ever see the kid again. He decided to tell Emily the _abridged_ version of his story.

"See, I have a pretty big family and two of my brothers are fighting. My other siblings are choosing sides and my dad doesn't seem to care enough to do anything about it. _They_ all think I'm dead when really I just left 'cause I couldn't stand the fighting anymore! _Then_, I met up with my niece who found some people she cared a lot about, but I told her something really bad would happen if she stayed with them…even though it wouldn't." Gabriel sighed and looked down at his hands.

"I feel pretty bad about that—the kid doesn't open up to people too easily—but I don't want her to get hurt! The people she was with, they have a really dangerous job, and I know she's old enough to take care of herself and everything, but I'm worried about her!" Groaning in frustration, Gabriel put his head in his hands. "I've got all this guilt and it's killing me. I just wish my dad would tell me what to do," he moaned.

The archangel felt a hand rub his back. "Hey, Gabe, it'll be okay," Emily said in a soothing voice. "I think that you're thinking about this too much. Look, you know what _my _dad would say?"

Gabriel lifted his head out of his hands and looked at her. "What?" he asked wearily.

Emily smiled and folded her hands on her lap. "Well, he'd say a few things." She counted them off on her fingers. "First, you need to tell your family that you're alive. It's just not right, making them think you're dead. Second, you need to stick up to your family. If you can't stick up to them, who _can _you stick up to? And third, you _really _need to talk to your niece. If she's old enough to make her own decisions, you have to let her. Just…I dunno…tell her you're worried about her and help her out when she needs it. End of story."

Gabriel blinked once in shock. Had he really been over-thinking this all? She made his problems seem really simple.

'_Huh, the mind of a child…'_

Suddenly, Emily's pocket started to bark. She pulled out her cell, pressed a button, and the barking stopped. "Sorry, Gabe," she groaned, "but I gotta go or I'll be late for piano." Emily smiled warmly at him. "It was nice meeting you. Good luck with everything."

She collected her belongings, patted Gabriel on the shoulder, and walked swiftly out of the church, leaving Gabriel alone with his thoughts.


	28. Author's Note

**HEY! HEY YOU!**

**Yeah, I'm talking to you, the person reading this! Who else would it be?**

**Guess what?**

**…**

**…**

**…**

**Did you guess yet? Doesn't matter cause I'm gonna tell you anyways! I've started the sequel!**

**Yes, you read right!**

**It's called "Solidarity Sandwiches."**

**It will be set in the Season 7 finale. Go to my profile and check it out!**


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